


Finding Shouyou

by tsukkisaur



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Background Relationships, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Bokuto Koutarou Being Bokuto Koutarou, Child Hinata Shouyou, Child Kozume Kenma - Freeform, Daycare, Domestic Fluff, Hinata Shouyou & Kozume Kenma Friendship, Implied Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, M/M, Married Life, Mentioned Sugawara Koushi, POV Alternating, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, Teacher Sugawara Koushi, Third Gym (Haikyuu!!), Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-19 15:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14240709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukkisaur/pseuds/tsukkisaur
Summary: Koutarou knows he's a failure of a father. He has yet to figure out what he has to do with this domestic life he's never grown used to, not when he's always gone. Now that he's back home with his husband and son, disaster ensues.Like playing around too much getting out of hand. Like Keiji and him nearly getting caught in bed naked by their toddler.Or like Koutarou losing Shouyou in a mall.





	1. The Father Figure He Needs

“I’m leaving tomorrow at seven,” Keiji announced during dinner. He cut a small portion of his rice with his chopsticks, before turning to the toddler to his left, feeding the ginger-head that had only paused from his flouncing in his seat to take the food into his mouth. “I’ll leave Shouyou with you, Koutarou. I hope it won't be much trouble.”

“You can count on me!” the older male replied, hitting the table once with a happy fist. When the table jilted, the plates trembled, chopsticks rolled off, and Shouyou fell into a fit of giggles. Keiji shot his husband a glare. Koutarou shrunk at that, mumbling a quick apology as he sported a counterfeit smile.

He shook his head and turned to the five-year-old. “Did ‘ya hear that, Shou? We’re having father-and-son day tomorrow! Do you wanna spend time with _papa_?” Koutarou leaned forward from his seat to tickle the toddler from under his chin. “Do you?”

“S-stop!” Shouyou pleaded, trying to take his father's hand away from him, his laughter filling the silence that sat between his parents.

“I don't hear an answer!”

It wasn't long before the ginger-head began tearing up, but his voice had never wavered. “I do, Papa! I… stop it! I do!”

Koutarou ruffled his tousled hair before he withdrew, a triumphant smile plastered across his face. “You better do,” he concluded before turning back to his food. His eyes flickered towards Keiji, who sat across the table from him, a small and soft smile tugging at the ravenette's lips as he stared at his husband endearingly. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” Keiji shook his head, “I just thought it’d be fun for Shouyou to spend time with you. After all, ever since you joined the national team, he would never stop talking about Papa being, I quote, the _coolest_ spiker there is.”

“And he _is_!” exclaimed Shou from the side, gripping the table from his high chair.

Keiji resolved by scooping another bite into his mouth. “Hush, love, this is adult talk.” When Shou nodded in understanding, Keiji lifted his glass to his lips, drank, then set it back down. His eyes searched for Koutarou’s before he proceeded, “He misses you a lot. With you gone pretty much the whole year, Shouyou’s been watching reruns of your games from the Olympics.”

“It’s because you buy them for yourself, too, Mama,” Shouyou reasoned out, earning himself a click of Keiji’s tongue before he shrunk back and began drumming on the table to distract himself.

Koutarou placed his chin on his hand and smirked at Keiji. “So Mama _does_ buy them, not just for Shou.”

Keiji swallowed the piece of meat he had shoved into his mouth, avoiding his husband’s burning gaze. “That's out of the question, Koutarou.”

“You can't take it back!” Koutarou cried, hopping to his feet, pointing at Keiji with one of his chopsticks. “Kids _never_ lie!” He whipped his head towards the toddler and nodded once. “Right, Shou-chan?”

Shouyou gladly yipped in response.

“Sit down, Koutarou,” Keiji ordered calmly.

Koutarou did just that.

Keiji turned to Shouyou to scoop another portion of rice into his mouth. Slightly exasperated, he told him, “Shouyou, don't encourage your father.” He paused to shoot Koutarou a look he couldn't comprehend. “Papa would never stop talking.”

“Yes, Ma,” Shou tittered cheekily. Unlike the other two time Keiji had tried to keep him quiet, the toddler kept his grin. Koutarou began to wonder which sides this child would be picking in the future, but it didn't matter.

It wasn't as though he had any plans on leaving Keiji. He was sure the other didn't have plans on leaving him either.

“Papa,” Shouyou croaked, rubbing at his eye groggily when Koutarou tucked him into bed. His father joined him, making the mattress creak as he sank his weight. “Do you think I can go to Brazil, too…?”

Koutarou let out a hearty laugh, before resting his upper arm between Shouyou’s hair and the headboard, his head supported against his palm. “Of course, my little owl,” he crooned, patting his toddler to a silent rhythm on his duvet-covered leg.

“Papa, I’m…” Shouyou was interrupted by a yawn. “I’m a crow.”

Koutarou’s lips downturned into a pout. “Don't you like owls?”

“Why, Papa? Don't _you_ like crows?”

The father fell silent, his lips forming an uneasy straight line. _You’ve done it now, Koutarou. You fucked up._ “I, uh,” he began, clearing his voice, trying to think up of an answer without insulting his own child. “Then, erm, tell Papa why you like owls. I mean, crows. Yes, crows.”

He could hear Keiji’s voice in his head, chastising him, _You ran away from that, didn't you?_

“I saw one,” Shouyou began, fidgeting with the duvet covers. “It looked pretty. It had small eyes. They looked like beads from Nanase-san’s curtains.”

“Who?”

“Nanase-san,” the ginger-head repeated. “The old woman who lives next door. She gives me cookies sometimes.”

Koutarou raised both his brows, taking a mental note to thank her the next day. Maybe he should bring back souvenirs for her, as well, the next time he comes back.

Shouyou hummed in thought, searching for more reasons he could tell his father. “Crows are black. I like black.” He giggled for a moment, only to be interrupted by yet another yawn. “They like singing, too. Mama tells me they're battle cries. It makes me think they fight a lot.”

“That's why you wanna be a crow?”

“Mmhmm. The one I saw was lonely, though. It didn't have friends, but it looked strong. I want to be strong,” he yawned, “too.”

Koutarou didn't know how he was supposed to compare crows and owls together, but he decided he wouldn't need to push his own love for owls into his son’s love for crows. _He could love anything he wants_ , he thought, playing with the child’s hair. Instead of fighting for whatever right owls had just to be passionate about, Koutarou told him, “When you become a crow, you can find friends just as strong as you are.”

“Then we can be strong… together?”

“Together,” Koutarou repeated, letting the word roll nicely over his tongue, “yes.”

Fondly, he eyed Shouyou, whose eyes reflected the soft ghostly glow of the stars his night light projected onto the ceiling. It was apparent to the father that he was forcing himself to stay awake just to keep talking.

Koutarou recalled just the day before when he had waltzed into Narita Airport, and even in the bustling crowd, he spotted the familiar ball of ginger hair, sitting on the shoulders of his own significant other. He recalled how bright the child’s smile was when he grinned from ear to ear, a perfect set of teeth on display just for him, when Koutarou ran to them, neglecting the duffel that bounced off his leg with every alternating step. He could remember that sweet “papa” cry he had let out when he clambered down Keiji’s shoulders just so he could meet the father he hadn't seen in nearly three months.

Shouyou launched himself at Koutarou’s lap, forcing him to ride shotgun and Keiji to drive. Arriving at home, Koutarou presented his souvenirs, ones he made sure Shouyou asked for. Every single time, the boy asked for a ball, just so he could practice his ‘control,’ and the latest gift he’s gotten from his papa was one personalized with the Brazilian flag. His eyes sparkled the moment he had unwrapped the plastic, also see _ripped apart_.

Immediately did Shouyou take it out into the backyard and began tossing up into the air so he could play a quick game of catch with himself. His mama told him he could practice his control that way, after all. And Shouyou was more than eager to weasel out some time from daily activities to toss the ball at least _two_ consecutive times without pausing when he caught it.

“A ball,” Keiji remarked when he joined Koutarou on the patio, linking his arm through his. “That boy's idolizing you so much, you shouldn't be surprised to find a shrine the next time you come home.”

“Doesn't he want anything else?” queried Koutarou after pecking his husband once on the forehead. His eyes drifted towards Shouyou who had stumbled over himself when the ball bonked him on the head, before he fell into a loud fit of laughter. “I’m pretty happy to know he’s pursuing the same dream, but… I feel kind of terrible. It feels like I’m forcing myself into him. Am I?”

Keiji grabbed his husband’s chin and forced him into eye contact with a free hand. “You're not,” he reassured him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, taking the older male by surprise. “You don't have to think about that. I’ll make sure Shou picks his own future, and it’ll depend on him whether it has anything to do with your career or none of it at all.”

He proceeded to dust his chest, as if identifying powder sprinkled onto the cotton. “Are you an idiot? If you ever force him into something _you_ want, you'd be dead to _me._ ”

“That's a bit scary, if you think of it,” Koutarou chimed in.

Keiji ignored him. “But you're still alive, so you're safe. For now.”

His lips pulled into a small grin. “Thanks, hun.”

The present Shouyou finally shut his eyes, croaking an inaudible ‘good night’ as he curled up into a ball. Koutarou watched his features relax, listening to his breaths enter and leave his body. He stayed there for a good five minutes snuggled up to his son, bathing in the ambience of a room illuminated only by the light that poured through the crack of the door, and the soft glow provided by the stars just overhead, before he slipped out of the bed, and failing, stumbling onto the floor with a thud muffled by the carpet.

Koutarou could use to lose a few pounds, he figured as he clambered up to stand and silently creep towards the exit. The door shut with a long, slow creak.

He found Keiji in the kitchen, washing the dishes with distressing clinks and clanks he never paid much attention to for as long as they hadn't broken. Koutarou watched him from the doorway, admiring the same figure his husband had even after all those years they’ve dated, and been separated. Even raising a child - _their_ child - in his lonesome, not to mention that Shouyou was an energetic ball of sunshine that rarely took his breaks, he hadn't looked a day older than twenty.

And Keiji was twenty-nine.

Koutarou crept towards him, pivoting around the table, until he could press his body against his husband's, linking his hands together once he had wrapped his arms around his waist. “You okay?” he breathed into Keiji’s ear, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Did I… surprise you?”

“I saw your shadow.”

“Oh.” Koutarou blinked at his response. “Then, do you want me to finish off those plates for you?”

Keiji didn't seem to be moved by his presence. The ravenette continued rinsing the last batch of plates on the counter to their left. “Don't even try and convince me,” he waved him off. “Even after our wedding, you still couldn't boil water.”

The older male’s face began to burn. “I-I can work on that if you ask me to,” he replied, his pitch an octave higher.

Keiji’s shoulders shook when he chuckled to himself. “You _always_ say that.” He paused to finish the last of the plates, and with a clink he continued, “Bokuto-san.”

“Koutarou,” he insisted.

“Bokuto-san.”

“ _Koutarou._ ”

“This argument isn't going to bring us anywhere,” Keiji concluded, letting the tap run to wash his soap-coated hands. He shook them after the rinse, closing the faucet with a distressing squeak, before grabbing the dry cloth hung on the oven handle. “Your last name still rolls nicely on my tongue, though.”

“We're both Bokuto’s, Keiji.”

The ravenette spun on his heel to face, leaning heavily against the sink, reeling the older male back. Sweatpants and a shirt that, in bold blue letters, read: LIBERTY. Even with those, Koutarou could proudly say that his significant other topped _any_ model in the industry. He didn't need make-up, or any fancy gowns made by world-famous fashion designers, and Koutarou's seen a lot of those while traveling around the world.

Keiji was fine looking like Keiji.

His pupils bore holes into him; his eyes painted an intelligent shade of blue. Those were the eyes of the most hardworking person Koutarou’s ever met, and God knew if he would ever give himself a rest.

At first glance, Keiji looked more or less like he’d never aged. Koutarou made sure to take another look, scanning him properly. In reality, Keiji was a married yet single father raising a five-turning-six toddler by himself, knowing that Koutarou was gone most of the time for training and part-time jobs plus seminars. Every part of him, no matter how beautiful and perfect his figure was at first glance, radiated exhaustion, and screamed ‘haggard.’

“You work too hard,” Koutarou chided him, clasping his hand. He lifted it to his lips as soon as he approached a step further, tracing Keiji’s knuckles by peppering them with light kisses. “House chores, _actual_ work at uni, and even taking Shou to daycare. It hurts me to see you do these for us.”

“Koutarou, if this is you trying to convince me with getting a maid for Shouyou,” Keiji began, shooting his husband a glare before withdrawing the hand he held, “I’m not listening.”

“You can't handle things by yourself.”

“I _can._ ”

“This is you being stubborn.”

Keiji’s brows were furrowed. “Well, I could say the same about you.”

“Keiji, I’m not just gonna watch from the sidelines to see you overworking,” Koutarou reasoned out, gesturing to his husband with a hand. He shook his head, banishing the train of thought. “God knows what would happen to us if you were to collapse.”

“Koutarou, I’m not handing our child over to some middle-aged female hungry for _your_ money - the same money we're using for Shouyou’s medical needs and education,” Keiji retorted. “Jesus Christ, you're on TV. Everyone knows how much you bring home. It’ll get parasitic.” He waved the idea off with the flick of his hand. “Trust me.”

The older male fell silent, dipping his head with a heave. _I’m only concerned about you_ , he thought. _I don't want anything to happen to Shou with you gone._ He figured he should be telling him that, but the words died in this throat. The last thing he wanted to do was raise his voice just trying to carry out a conversation with his husband. Much worse, he might even wake the ginger-head from upstairs. Seeing your parents fight would ruin a childhood - if Koutarou is to be believed, that is.

Keiji opened his arms.

Koutarou raised a brow. “And that's supposed to be…?”

The ravenette rolled his eyes, eventually avoiding eye contact. “I’m asking for a hug, Koutarou.” Two seconds passed, and Keiji clicked his tongue, walking forward to close the gap between them. “Come here.”

Koutarou opened his arms, only to wrap them around Keiji’s waist once more, whilst the latter rested his hands on his chest, his face nuzzled in the taller male’s neck. “The reason why I can't get us a maid,” Keiji began, tracing circles on Koutarou's shirt, “is because I want Shouyou to remember you.”

“But he _can_ remember me,” whined Koutarou.

“You don't get it, Kou! You just… don't - look, if a new person walks into Shou’s life, he’ll think less and less of you. I volunteered myself for this job, I signed up for this, so listen to me when I say,” he paused to withdraw and cup Koutarou's left cheek, “leave it to me. I can do this. You don't have to worry about my health. If I ever feel unwell, I’ll let you know. I’ll take a break. I’ll ask someone to bring Shou to daycare. I just want you to understand that I can do this. Alone.”

Koutarou rested his chin on Keiji’s head as he rubbed the small of his back.

“It's been three months, and you still haven't graduated from being you,” Keiji noted. “That makes me glad.”

Heaving a sigh, the younger male continued, “I’m doing this for us. I’ll preserve Shou’s memories of you so he never forgets what kinds of fun he had when you were around. That way, he’ll look up to you, whether you're on TV, or standing in our doorway. You're _his_ special dad - the kind he could be proud of during show-and-tell.”

When the two of them had fallen into relative silence, the ravenette added on, “Well, I hope you understand why most athletes are divorced. You're rarely home, after all. It makes the kids think of different things. It makes the other parent want to keep it that way so they make arrangements.”

The owl-like man frowned. “You're not leaving me, are you?”

“Not a chance, Koutarou,” Keiji answered, chuckling to himself. “That's why I’m making sure he spends most of his time with me, and, if you're available, you, as well.”

That lifted the older man’s spirits. He kissed him once, before he continued, “I’ll make sure we do all sorts of things tomorrow. I suppose we could say,” he pulled away from Keiji’s arms to slash at the air with a hand, as he declared, “Papa Mode… activate!”

Keiji stifled his laughter from behind him, but even without having Koutarou to turn, he could tell how much his lover had begun wheezing. _It feels warm,_  he thought, reminiscing the last moment he felt like that just by hearing Keiji’s fit of chuckles. They were usually the best days when they spent most of their time together talking.

For the first time he’s come home in three months, he could at long last hear that precious sound that dared escape Keiji’s lips.

Once he had calmed down, Keiji uttered, his tone fond and endearing, “Promise me Shou can bring you to school for Parent Day.”

Koutarou spun and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him closer. “Yes, Sir,” he beamed. “I’ll make sure I carve out some time for him. Leave it to me. That kid’s got amazing stamina, by the way. And God, falling asleep is _not_ of his expertise.”

“He takes that from _your_ side of the family, Koutarou. I’m not hearing complaints about tucking him into bed.”

“Jealous of your own child,” he mused, giving his husband a false look of disapproval. “That’s not motherly.”

Keiji pushed him back. “Stop it,” he chided, although unable to help himself and grin from the teasing. He cleared his voice, letting his face fall back into its neutral state. “No, seriously, it's not funny.”

 _Now you're just trying to keep me at bay._ A sly grin pulled at Koutarou's lips. “Do you want _me_ to tuck you into bed, too?”

“I already told you, stop.”

“Keiji,” the older male breathed into his ear, feeling the other’s shoulders tense. _Still weak by the ears, I see._ Koutarou arched forward, closing the gap between them. He waited a good two seconds before Keiji could relax, and alas breaking it with one of his famous smiles.

Playfully nipping at Keiji’s lower lip, to which the younger male had jolted in surprise, he winked, resorting to half-lidded eyes that mirrored his husband’s natural ones. “Would you like to play with me tonight?”

“Jesus Christ,” Keiji muttered under his breath, clamping a hand over Koutarou’s mouth, still providing his husband a good view of how red the tips of his ears were. “Shouyou’s sleeping in the next room.”


	2. Too Familiar a Titter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's morning. Keiji doesn't particularly feel like getting out of bed. Neither does Bokuto. 
> 
> Shouyou feels otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I got carried away. I'm having fun with domestic life. 
> 
> Not that I have children. Or a husband. Or a wife. Or a relationship with anyone. I'm 15.
> 
> Let me rephrase that: I'm having fun WRITING with domestic life. 
> 
> Geez. 
> 
> \- Kei
> 
> P.S. Wi-Fi leaves a day after tomorrow. Next update might come a little late. Toodles.

When Keiji’s eyes fluttered open that morning, he could still feel his energy at ground zero, and the fatigue laid asleep within his bones. Dread filled his stomach; he didn't really have a good reason to get up if not for that god-forsaken seminar he had to attend at Ueno. _This is going to be a long day_ , he thought to himself with a groan absconding his lips as he tried shifting his position. Keiji didn't even want to try and visualize whatever he was supposed to be doing there.

He closed his eyes, opened them, trying to adjust to the sunlight that penetrated the windows through the blinds, coloring the room a bright and blinding honeycomb. Keiji shedded himself with the remnants of his dream, erasing them from his mind in an instant, before the mattress beneath him had allowed his body to relax against it once more. As much as he didn't feel like admitting it, Keiji was drowsy.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stay in bed all day. There was work to be done.

He turned his attention to Koutarou, who slept snugly to his right, his legs entangled with his own underneath the covers. The man’s lips were partly open, a subtle sign of talking in his sleep and snoring. By then he was silent, if the air entering and leaving his body was to be neglected.

Keiji’s eyes relaxed. It had felt so long since he had seen Koutarou next to him in bed, even though they'd been reunited a couple of days back. The previous morning was far more devilish, providing Keiji no time to admire his husband from beside him.

That morning was different, however.

Keiji studied his face, from his semi-thick eyebrows half-furrowed, the soft eyelashes gently resting on his skin, the overgrown fringe - an alternation of his white and black hair - that fell over his forehead, to the high nose just as defined as his jaw. Good Lord, had Keiji been blessed with such a beautiful man, or what?

The thought made him chuckle to himself. He missed him, just as much as their son had. Three months seemed so long, and time felt so slow when Koutarou wasn't with him. Keiji couldn't do anything, however; his significant other had chosen this path since high school and the least he could do was support him.

And this idiot wanted to get them a maid. As if Keiji would ever allow that. He'd never tell Koutarou, but deep inside, Keiji knew he didn't want anyone robbing him of the work supposed to be his. Even all-nighters were worth it, if it meant that amazing feeling of accomplishment in the break of dawn.

He put those thoughts aside. Those didn't matter for now. His lover was sleeping soundly next to him. That was it.

 _While you're around, Koutarou, I hope you make the best memories for Shou_. Keiji reached out a hand to caress his husband’s face, stroking his cheek with a fond thumb. Never once did Keiji think he had made the wrong choices by choosing him as his groom. If there was a father figure that their son needed, that would be none other than him. No other man in this world would do the job just right, and it didn't matter whether Koutarou was gone most of the year or not, because whenever he was around for them, he was around for them through and through.

Koutarou’s features creased together under Keiji’s touch. With a voice no louder than a whisper, the ravenette called out to him by the name, followed by a quick and hushed, “It’s time to wake up.”

At once, his eyes snapped open. Had Keiji not been the one to wake him, he would have mistaken it as jolting from a nightmare. Koutarou’s features relaxed at the sight of his better half, a small smile tugging at his dried lips. “Well, good morning, sunshine,” he told him sleepily with that hoarse voice Keiji had missed. Mornings were simple like that - simply _amazing_ , especially when the two of them had woken next to each other, bathing in their own warmth from underneath the sheets. “Has my princess been staring at me for long?”

“Stop calling me that,” Keiji hissed, but came out as gushing instead. With the goofy grin he had on and couldn't wipe off, he wasn't as much convincing to pass as angered.

“Just admit that you’ve missed me, snowflake.”

Keiji inched towards him to bump their noses, his eyes closing. He expected Koutarou to do the same. “Got any original nicknames for me, Kou?”

“Aw, come on,” he chuckled. “We can't argue over this so early in the morning.” Koutarou shifted for a moment, as if scanning something from behind him, which Keiji guessed were the windows, before he was able to conclude, “It looks like a beautiful day outside.”

Keiji hummed in approval, too lazy to word out a witty response.

“You’re more beautiful, though.”

The younger male peeled an eye open, only to come across his husband's goofy grin - one that he had resisted himself from kissing off his face. “Now you're just flirting with me.”

“But it's true,” Koutarou declared softly, pecking him once on the tip of his nose, followed by another on his cheek. He wrapped an arm around him, his biceps pressed against Keiji’s shoulder, his fingers buried in his dark locks. “You're the most beautiful person I know. How you're not winning Miss Universe is a surprise to me.”

“We should get up. Your jokes are getting dangerously cheesier by the second and it's getting alarming.”

Koutarou's hushed laughter was the last thing they’ve heard before the two had fallen into relative, comforting silence. Keiji placed both his hands on his husband’s chest, and as he felt his warm breath washing over his features, he began tracing Koutarou's collar bones with his thumbs. The mattress creaked from beneath them when the older male reached below the duvet to place Keiji’s bare leg over his own before he proceeded drawing circles at the small of his back.

“You don't really want to get out of bed,” Koutarou smiled, “do you?”

“Not at all,” Keiji croaked, groaning, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck. He inhaled Koutarou’s scent, and breathed against his heated skin. “I don't want to go to work.”

“Neither do I. I’m on vacation.”

Out of the blue did a third person land on their intertwined legs with that ever so familiar shriek of delight, jolting both parents awake into a sitting position. Keiji had never been so frightened in his entire life just by hearing his own son’s voice.

“Wake up!” tittered Shou as he attempted to clamber over their legs, only for him to miss a step and slide back down onto the mattress. Nonetheless, the boy was still very much delighted, his laughter like liquid sunshine.

With the ginger-head wasting his time having fun by the foot his parents’ king-sized bed, Keiji had grasped the opportunity to calm himself down. His lungs might as well have leapt out of his chest. Good Lord, Shouyou was going to give him a heart attack at the worst timings. _How couldn't we have heard his footsteps?_

“Shouyou, baby,” he began, sliding out a leg. The cold air greeted his bare skin, making him withdraw back under the duvet. Keiji’s blood ran cold, his hammering heart dropping to his stomach. He’d forgotten one important thing - both he and Bokuto were naked. _Oh my God._ He felt his face burn a dark shade of red. Flustered, he cleared his voice and continued, “O-on second thought, honey, why don't you wait for us outside?”

Shouyou stopped dead in his tracks, looking at him straight in the eye. “Why? Is there something wrong, Mama?”

_Jesus fucking Christ._

Keiji offered his boy the best smile he could put on for him. “No, no,” he told him sweetly, “it’s just that your father and I have something _very_ important to discuss.”

Shouyou’s eyes lit up before he began pouncing up and down. “I wanna listen!”

_Save my poor soul._

“Please, Shou? Do this for Ma, just this once?”

The ginger-head’s eyes flickered between his parents. Dread clambered up to Keiji’s throat, the fear tugging at the pit of his stomach. If Shou was to find out about his fathers sleeping naked together, God knew what kind of conversations would sprout from his mind! He’d be lucky if these thoughts weren't queued up at school, or that would mean the death of him.

Keiji could almost visualize his son sitting in the red seat at daycare, raising his hand, asking, “Can I sleep without my pajamas, too?”

At that point, Sugawara-sensei would be tilting his head with a raised and suspicious brow. “Where’d you get that from, dear?”

Shouyou would flash a proud smile in response. “My mama and papa sleep together without pajamas! That means I can do it, too! Right, sensei?”

 _No_ , Keiji refused. He wasn't going to let that happen, not on his watch. He would try every tactic he had to use if that meant Shouyou wouldn't be able to ask questions - those that should _never_ be said by a toddler.

Surprisingly, the boy only nodded once with a small smile before sliding off the bed. “Yes, Ma!” he chipped, hopping to the door. “I’m going to wait in my room until you're done! Then we can eat breakfast together! Won't we, Ma? Pa?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Keiji answered, hoping he hadn't sounded too relieved. “Close the door on your way out, please.”

“I will!” And with those words, the door shut, leaving the two males in the room to let out the biggest breaths they’ve held in their lives.

Koutarou was frozen in his sitting position. Three seconds after Shouyou left the room, he ran a hand through his tousled hair and mumbled something Keiji almost didn't hear. “I’ve never been so grateful to the person who invented blankets.”

The ravenette felt his brow twitch.

He turned to the man to his left with a laugh. “I’m sorry for teasing and forcing you into doing it last night.”

Keiji didn't reply. He just sat there quietly, staring into nothingness, leaving his husband to talk in his lonesome.

“Imagine if Shouyou saw,” Koutarou began, chuckling. “Oh, God, I can't _imagine_ what kind of questions he’d ask for us. I’m glad he wasn't being insistent today.”

When Keiji disregarded him for the nth time, Koutarou began to shake.

“We were cutting it close just now, though!” Koutarou mused before letting out yet another sigh. Keiji didn't pretend hearing the slight building up of his nervousness. “M-man, I’m relieved.”

Still no response.

“K-Keiji,” called Koutarou, “are you… erm, are you mad?

Keiji shot him a cold look. No furrowed brows. No twisted unfathomable lip. He just stared at his husband and flatly asked, “Koutarou-san, do you remember last night when I told you I wouldn't be considering a divorce?”

With a single question did all colors flush from Koutarou’s face. “P-please forgive me…”


	3. Extra Chapter - Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would have happened in bed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't I mention Keiji had a dream? 
> 
> Smut-ish. It passes as smut, but it doesn't, more like borderline. Basically making out and whatever. 
> 
> And a turned on Akaashi Keiji, but that's not exactly relevant to the current events. Not going to lengthen this, so here it is, I proudly present Keiji's dream. 
> 
> One he had forgotten as soon as morning came. Skip this if you don't feel like reading horribly written extra chapters; carry on if you sort of feel like cringing. 
> 
> Enjoy while waiting for the next //actual// chapter. 
> 
> \- Kei

Koutarou smelled like soap and coffee - when he pinned him against their door, when he intertwined his fingers through his, gripping him ever so tightly. 

His lungs were burning, yearning for air, but Keiji couldn't break the kiss with a struggle or a shove. He had been too afraid of doing so, too busy being relinquished with Koutarou’s tongue exploring every nook and cranny of his mouth, sending electric waves down his spine as they fought for dominance. 

Hungrily so. 

Keiji’s mind was a blur, as though his decency was tainted by Koutarou's ridiculous requests being forced upon him. If lusting for a specific someone was a disease, Keiji knew damn well it was far more than contagious. 

Koutarou withdrew with a single hasty motion, resting his forehead against Keiji’s, both of them left to pant against each other. The ravenette caught him lick his lips as if reminiscing, recalling how the sensation felt like, the memory still so fresh in his mind. 

“One more,” Koutarou breathed, his voice hoarse and heavy with lust. His head tilted to the left as he inched his head towards Keiji’s to close the gap between them. “I’m not satisfied.”

_ Oh, God,  _ Keiji thought, praying to whoever was watching over the two of them. Koutarou’s alter ego was the man Keiji had always seen in bed. He couldn't even call him by the first name by then. He wasn't Koutarou. Not when his features were creased with shadows of hunger like he radiated it, leaving his amber eyes to burn holes into him. Not when his desperation to have his body was beyond decent. And when had desperation even passed as decent, in the first place? 

He felt his knee wedge between his thighs, moving alarmingly upwards, forcing them to part. Keiji swallowed, letting loose of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. 

Keiji wanted to stop. They had a son in the next room. God knew what kind of reaction the boy would pull if he were to open the door behind them and find his parents stumbling over each other in a kiss neither had desired to break. The thought was haunting, leaving a terrible taste in his mouth, but when his words dispersed into broken moans as Koutarou had charged a second time, all of those thoughts were banished immediately, replaced by the name of the man who stood before him. 

_ Koutarou.  _ Keiji knew he shouldn't be calling him that. That man wasn't Koutarou. 

Koutarou was in the kitchen pecking his knuckles after he'd washed the dishes. Koutarou was playing outside with Shouyou, teaching him how to ‘tame’ the ball. Koutarou was a professional volleyball player who came to help Japan win its third gold medal in a row. 

Koutarou wasn't  _ close  _ to fucking him asleep. 

Keiji struggled, pushing blindly against his other half. Luckily for him, both had gotten a number on their energy, and Koutarou hadn't even bothered to put up a fight. 

The ravenette was heavily leaned against the door, his hands on either side of him, pinned by Koutarou's firm grasp. He panted as he examined him, eyeing the glistening sweat that traveled down the sides of his head, trailing down into his shirt. Keiji gulped before drifting his eyes back to lock them with Koutarou's amber ones. Occasionally did they flicker towards his collar, however, only to result in the younger male to turn beet red. He hoped Koutarou noticed the changes in his color, hoped that he had thought of them as his exhaustion seeping into his bones. 

Koutarou's fringe began to rebel. Even as the rest of his hair parted in two different directions, the fringe began to fall over his forehead, and the man showed no desire to fix it up. 

His eyes… good Lord, his eyes were half-lidded when he stared back at Keiji, a tongue passively wetting his reddened lips. If he were to smile then and there, Keiji knew it would be most certainly venomous. 

Keiji wished he wasn't turned on. 

He blamed his damned husband. What kind of man did he choose to marry? 

To think that Koutarou's expression could change from happy-go-lucky to  _ this _ , Keiji would have laughed at how terrifying it all was. Normally his teasing wouldn't go that far, but then again, what  _ was  _ normal when it came to Koutarou's piqued desires? 

“Stop staring at me like that,” Keiji demanded. 

“You're looking at me, too, so it's a win-win.” And there it was. Koutarou flashed the grin Keiji didn't want to see. Venomous, he was right. Usually, Koutarou would give him this look at random times anywhere for as long as they were together. Usually, Keiji would describe it as goofy and contagious and it always would send him laughing if he was feeling light in his chest. 

By then, however, Keiji didn't know what he had to do to pull all of his husband's teeth out. 

Koutarou stepped closer towards him, nuzzling his face in Keiji’s neck. Subconsciously did the ravenette move accordingly, allowing access for him to keep exploring, as if openly inviting him to not leave a single spot of his body untouched by his grace. 

“You ready for the next one?” Koutarou rasped, his warm breath sending tingles to Keiji's lower half. The ravenette attempted to lock his knees together to keep himself from buckling to the floor, but the feeling only worsened as soon as he had realized Koutarou’s knee spread his legs apart, pushing dangerously against his crotch. “What do you say,” he paused to nip at his left ear, “ _ Keiji _ ?”

As if being completely taken over wasn't embarrassing enough, a whimper escaped Keiji’s mouth. With his hands pinned against the wall, he had nothing to gag himself. His lips sealed shut when his pride flowed back in, his eyes closed tight like he was face to face with his darkest nightmare. His face burned from humiliation, from exhaustion, and as much as he hated to admit, from keeping himself off of Koutarou even when he was already beckoning him redundantly to be owned. Keiji hated to say it. 

No, he was  _ not  _ going to be Koutarou's that night. 

His lower regions felt warm, and Keiji bit his lip to keep himself from giving in. His thighs pressed against Koutarou’s between them, in the hopes of relieving the discomfort in his jeans. No such luck. What  _ would  _ do the trick is keep Koutarou away from him and let him do his own business. With his husband unwilling to let go of him however, that seemed too far from reality. 

Another whimper escaped Keiji’s mouth when Koutarou peppered the lining of his jaw with kisses, tracing its shape, occasionally sucking at a specific area enough to drive Keiji insane. 

“Careful, Keiji,” Koutarou whispered, warning him, “or you might just wake up Shou from the next room.”

_ You bastard.  _


	4. Enough Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to go, Keiji.

In his sweatpants and tattered shirt, he laid himself on his stomach, smothered in cotton pillows and sheets. 

Keiji had been so accustomed to exhaustion from working that the relaxation seeping into his vessels almost felt so foreign. The moment his body collided with the bed, the mattress sank under his weight, and along with that came the relief rushing back into his veins. 

At long last, after a whole day of flitting and fluttering about the house for two toddlers he had to take care of, Koutarou included, he had finally gotten hold of the prize he’s convinced himself he’d be getting the moment he realized he didn't want to move an inch. 

_ Soft _ , he thought, running a hand over the area next to his head, admiring the cottony feel that reminded him of puffy clouds. The mere idea tickled his palm. Keiji began to giggle to himself, muffled by the pillow pressed against his sealed lips. 

He stopped the moment he remembered Koutarou was in the area. Before he could be deemed delusional, Keiji shut himself up, but had never really stopped himself from rubbing his face against the pillow like an idiot. 

He was making a few guesses of what he looked like; it wasn't as though he could help it. He was comfortable. His body was pinned down against the sheets with what felt like paralysis - a type he could get used to. God knew how long he could stay that way, considering he had to leave in the morning for a seminar in Ueno State University, and Koutarou would, most likely, come from the bathroom in a few minutes - seconds, even - teasing him into having their ‘sexy time,’ as the man would call it, and Keiji wasn't even sure if he could talk him out of it. 

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and Keiji peeled an eye, only to find himself face to face with the headboard. For a moment, things were silent, save for Koutarou’s footsteps.  _ He’ll talk in a few, once he gets the towel thrown over the chair by the mirror _ , Keiji predicted, letting his mind drift to sleep.

“Keiji,” came Koutarou's voice. 

_ Called it.  _ Keiji let out an incoherent grunt. 

Koutarou’s hand rested on his leg before he began shaking him lightly. “Change your clothes,” he advised him. The older male was so serious, it began to frighten Keiji, but he was too lazy to care. Right, that was probably Keiji being too lazy. The ravenette responded with more disgruntled noises from his throat whilst burying his face further into his pillow, as if there was any possible way for him to suffocate himself to death, given the depth. 

When Keiji didn't reply, Koutarou huffed, “If you're not undressing, I'm doing it myself.”

That caught his attention. He rolled over on his back then sat up, frowning at his husband who stood to his left in his boxers, a knee on the mattress, and a smug grin on his face. Keiji didn't know what he had to do just to wipe it off of his sight. Bitterly, he groaned, “You're really not done going on about that, are you?”

“No,” Koutarou admitted earnestly before crawling over, making the bed beneath them creak with every movement, “so can we do it?”

“This is why we don't buy dogs for Shou,” Keiji stated coldly, interrupted halfway with a yawn. “You’re already playing that role.” He gestured towards him, his finger flickering between his head and his behind. “I swear to  _ God,  _ your mom must have forgotten to let you have a tail.”

Keiji fell back on the bed, and although he hadn't meant it to go that way, he had provided Koutarou access to hover on all fours above him, limiting his own movements. Now he couldn't roll back on his stomach, not even so he could avoid looking at his husband. With his large chiseled arms on either side of his head, Keiji had wafted the faint smell of soap and their toothpaste, but he had paid it no attention. 

“Come on,” Koutarou insisted, almost whining.  “Just this once please? Do it for Kou-chan.”

_ Kou-chan _ , Keiji mused, a hand snaking up to cup his other half’s cheek. It's been a while since he’s called him that. Six, seven years? Back when Koutarou still hadn't been scouted for the national team. Back when marriage was only beginning to become a topic between them. Back when they were so young, they’d spend weekends together, either littering the hallway of their unit with their clothes, or snuggling in the sofa while laughing at how ridiculous special effects were on TV. 

When Koutarou moved his head to greet Keiji's palm, the ravenette snapped back into reality, delicately recoiling as if he had just touched the world’s most heated metal. The blood in his face burned, and Keiji resolved by looking away, glueing his gaze to the bedside table and the lamp his husband had bought a year back. 

Koutarou’s features softened, his smile warm and robbed of all its haughtiness. “You were looking at me fondly just a while ago,” he noticed. “Remembered something?”

_...you almost had me.  _

“O-old feelings don't change easily,” Keiji reasoned out, his eyes flickering back at Koutarou before returning to the lamp. “We have some note-worthy memories from the past, you know.”

He chuckled, trembling above him. That hadn't helped Keiji’s mood. However, he was more than awake, and he reckoned he could spend two more hours before the next yawn was to escape his mouth. 

“So,” Koutarou went on, propping himself up with a single arm as the other reached down, his hand clasping one of Keiji’s all so he could hook it around his neck. “Why don't we make more memories, then?”

“For the last time,” Keiji began, a low growl rumbling in his throat, “Shouyou’s in the next room. If I moan - ”

Koutarou grinned slyly. 

_ Crap.  _ Keiji’s mouth was frozen half open, speechless from his humiliation over Koutarou's teasing gaze.  _ I shouldn't have said that.  _ He retracted, taking his arm back to cross it with the other defensively on his chest. Then again, he couldn't maintain eye contact. He decided to look the opposite way, finding the window to his right, and the light from an outdoor bulb pouring through the blinds. “Long story short,” Keiji concluded, clearing his voice to keep it from squeaking, “I’m not doing it, Koutarou.”

“Just when I thought you had admitted you wanted to.”

“I didn't do anything.”

Keiji's eyes glanced back at Koutarou just in time to catch him look around. The moment he begun to wonder what he was searching for in his place, the owl-like male queried ever so casually, “Do we still have our gags from before?”

Keiji wanted to be swallowed whole. 

He could remember the last time he used one of those, and those were way back in his college years. His face burned a darker shade of red when in his mind played an image of him using it, back when he and Koutarou - then, Bokuto-san - were trying to keep quiet as to not ruin their crisp and polite reputation from the neighbors. 

Keiji looked at Koutarou, bewildered as his face settled and flushed back to its normal color. How old was the man straddling him, and what year did he think they were in? 

“You're not really going to stop insisting, are you?”

Koutarou whined with the loudest voice he could afford. Putting Shouyou to sleep must have done a number on him; he’d already known how difficult a task it had been. He wasn't going through  _ that  _ hell again, he seemed to say. “It’s been a while since our last time!”

Keiji quirked a brow. “Why didn't you ask me last night?”

“I was tired.”

“I am, too.”

Koutarou’s ears perked up. “Wait, really?”

Keiji’s lips contorted into a grimace as he twisted his torso, willing his legs to follow as soon as Koutarou had lifted his weight off of him. “Good night, Koutarou. Be a dear and close the lights when you're off to bed.”

“Keiji - ”

“Go jerk off in a corner if you're horny. I’m having none of this tonight.” The ravenette tucked his legs inside the blanket, pulling the edge to his neck snugly. 

Silence. 

Normally Keiji would have been satisfied. Normally Koutarou would cuddle up to him by then at his defeat. Normally things would be fine, with the ravenette in control.  _ Jesus Christ, Koutarou.  _ He could feel him sitting in the same position, wondering if Keiji would ever look back and apologize for his words. He could feel his lips downturning into a pout. He could feel his legs dangling, his knees lifted a good few inches as so his soles couldn't brush against the carpet. 

“Oh my God,  _ what _ ?” Keiji snapped at the five-second silence, jolting into a sitting position. He wasn't wrong about his guesses.

Koutarou truly was sitting in the same position, letting his legs dangle, his eyes torn away from the floor and his lips in a massive pout when he looked back at Keiji. “I wasn't saying anything.”

Keiji wasn't wrong when he said he was taking care of not one but  _ two  _ toddlers, either. 

The ravenette sighed before gesturing Koutarou to come closer. “At least be by my side, Kou.”

Koutarou’s eyes lit up at his words, but he immediately tried to veil them up with the ‘sad look.’  _ I can see through your acting, you can stop now _ , was what Keiji felt like saying, but his good heart hadn't wanted to embarrass Koutarou. Instead, he allowed himself to play along. 

Keiji held both of Koutarou's hands and gave him the same warm, nearly condescending, look he would have given a guilty and crying Shouyou. Before he could even open his mouth to ask, Koutarou had chimed in, breaking his own mask, “You look haggard, you know. I feel kind of bad for waking you, but I really wanted to spend this night with you. L-like old times! I sorta,” he paused to chuckle as he rubbed Keiji's knuckles with his thumbs, “missed them, I guess. I know I might be crossing the line, but… I dunno. I keep remembering you writing your thesis papers. And I’d disturb you from my bunk, cuddling up to you, then you'd make some time for me, too. In the end, you’d finish your papers with a smile.”

“I wanted to see that same smile again,” Koutarou finished, pecking Keiji’s hand. “So, can we…?”

Keiji stared at him, then glared. 

Koutarou's face fell. “You saw through that tactic, too?”

The ravenette grinned. 

Koutarou's face burned a bright shade of red Keiji hadn't missed in the yellow light of the lamp. The older male buried his face in his hands, and let out muffled cries. “I thought I’d won you over with that one, too…!”

Keiji would have laughed. He’d done the same thing the last time he’d foiled his plans. Keiji extended an arm to pat his husband on the shoulder. 

He threw down his hands to his sides and claimed, “I meant the last one, though! How did you figure it out?”

“You gave it away when you used ‘Kou-chan’ as if referring to it as my weak point when it’s actually yours,” Keiji stated flatly, before pausing to smile, “ _ Kou-chan. _ ”

Koutarou began wailing at that. 

“I’m sorry for playing,” Keiji apologized, inching over to cup Koutarou’s cheek, silencing the man. “You’ve been trying too hard, I didn't feel like ruining your spotlight.”

Koutarou puffed his cheeks out and hugged his legs close to his chest.  _ This guy really is a toddler _ , Keiji mused, laughing to himself quietly. Whatever he was coming to face with, whether it be a huge excuse of an emotional rollercoaster or the warmest of all fleeces, Koutarou stayed Koutarou. 

Three months was long enough, long enough for him to keep thinking about him on the daily. Long enough for him to keep calling (and on some days, as Shouyou had insisted). Long enough for him to be excited alongside him even with their distance. 

Keiji sighed and sat next to him, eventually shifting to lean against his side. His eyes traveled towards the ceiling, roaming around the texture he couldn't see given the seven-foot gap. He’s always liked the ceiling. When the house was only being under construction, Keiji insisted that he and Koutarou paint their own room by themselves. 

_ That reminds me _ … His eyes traveled towards the window, where directly below the frame rested the a small blue handprint - Shouyou's, back when he was three and a half, when his fingers were stubbier. 

Keiji remembered telling him about how he and his papa were the ones who did their own room. What might have been out of jealousy, Shouyou insisted that he wanted to help out. Given that the house had already been finished before the child was born, Keiji brought out blue paint from the attic, the color chosen by Shou himself, and until that day sat his handprint on the wall, standing out on the beige background. 

Keiji clicked his tongue in thought, reconsidering  _ everything  _ Koutarou's told him. Perhaps from pity for one of the two most valuable people in his life did he open his mouth and ask, “Do you think it would really make me feel better?”

_ I’m an idiot _ , Keiji thought when he collided his fist with the tiled wall in front of him that morning. A groan must have escaped his lips, but he himself hadn't heard it - the shower drowned out the sound. 

He couldn't breathe through his nose or mouth, either, unless he was to duck and resist the water with the back of his head. Now that he’d been able to look back, he felt stupid. Humiliated. In a way that he wanted to be enveloped by the ground beneath his feet. 

Last night, they’ve been, in all honesty, childish. Especially him. He'd expected better from himself. If Keiji  _ had  _ been in the mood for playing around with his husband, he could have awoken to not admiring Koutarou's face, but snapping into reality. 

There was a child in the next room. 

The door was unlocked. Even a teenager would know he'd have to close the door  _ properly.  _

Keiji wished he'd taken more precaution. Then he would have been more relieved to see Shouyou, not show the poor child he needed him outside for a bit, just so his fathers could secretly get dressed. For sure, he wasn't the only person in that situation. For all he knew, a toddler once caught her mom giving her dad oral. 

And in that sense, his situation was nothing in comparison. He was in bed with Kou, like parents do with beds, nothing special to Shouyou if not for the fact that he had to wake them up. Seeing the look on his face, Keiji could tell he was looking forward to spending his day with his papa.

He started the day by sending him out, and glaring at Koutarou for getting him into this mess, forgetting he had been at fault all the same. His immaturity was beginning to get on his nerves. 

_ Act your age, dammit,  _ he cursed. Shouyou was five already; it’s been five years since he first came to their doorstep. That was long enough to become accustomed to a child living in the same household, wasn't it? 

His hand latched around the knob right in front of his chest, switching the shower off with a loud squeak that bounced off the small stall. He sighed, resting his forehead against the wall. He eyed the water at his feet, watching as they whirled around the drain, carrying out sounds that - much to his surprise - calmed him down and regulated his breathing. 

One more heave and Keiji pushed against the tiles to prop himself up.  _ First thing’s first,  _ he thought, gathering his bearings.  _ I’ll apologize to Koutarou.  _

Sure, he'd said that. He wasn't entirely sure of what to say. 

_ ‘Sorry for kidding around about the divorce.’ _

_ ‘I didn't mean to tell you those things. Forgive me, Koutarou, if you find it in your heart to say so.’ _

Keiji flitted from one drawer to another, rummaging through his folded clothes. He'd gotten so distracted he'd forgotten which was which. If he wasn't wrong, he probably had switched up the positioning of every compartment.

And he cursed himself for doing so. 

_ ‘We're both at fault, though. We should try acting our age. Promise me, we'll become better parents for Shou.’ _

Keiji took another once over in the mirror, wondering if he could pass for the casual business attire. Thinking coats were too flashy, Keiji had gone with a grey cardigan and a red flannel peeking out the collar. He could go for an okay from the waist up; what he wore below was what troubled him. Were beige jeans too casual? 

Hell, he couldn't tell if they'd even look fine with his chestnut loafers. 

He saw his reflection frown back at him when he ran a hand through his hair - not once, not twice, but thrice to tousle his strands the way he felt comfortable with - and heaved a sigh. He wasn't marching back towards the drawers to hunt for more clothes; that'd be a waste of time. 

Either way, looking decent was good enough. 

“It’s a  _ fucking  _ seminar,” he reminded himself, grabbing for his envelope clutch bag on the bed. He checked his wallet snugly wedged in his back pocket before he pulled his left sleeves up to his elbows. Without bothering to mirror the length on his right arm, he checked the time on his silver wristwatch. 

“Fuck.” He'd have to talk to Koutarou  _ after  _ the seminar if he wanted to get to Ueno State on time.  _ Why’d I ever sign up to become a teacher?  _

Keiji paced down the hall, then strode into the kitchen where he should find Koutarou and Shou. His better half had promised to make breakfast before Keiji headed to the bathroom. Much to his demise, he wouldn't be able to taste his husband's cooking that morning. 

Not that Keiji missed his cooking. 

No. 

Not at all. 

He’d entered the kitchen, finding Shouyou drumming on his high chair, and Koutarou by the counter washing his hands. Keiji bent down to peck Shou’s cheek, breathing against his skin for a split second before straightening up to say a quick good morning. He ruffled his hair when Shouyou stared back up at him to flash a smile, before he strode off towards Kou, kissing him almost the same way he’d done their son. 

Koutarou’s eyes followed him out of the kitchen as Keiji had bid a hasty goodbye. “I’ll see you two later,” he told them with a dismissive wave. “Don't fight, boys.”

Keiji’s hand was closed around the doorknob when Koutarou exclaimed from the dining area, followed by heavy footsteps that came one after the other. The moment he had turned to search for the speaker, he’d come face to face with his other half, holding something out for him - something wrapped in pink cloth. 

_ Two layers.  _ He eyed it more carefully.  _ There are definitely two layers…! _

Keiji’s eyes flickered between him and the bento box he had only accepted from Kou.  _ Had he always known how to make this…? _ Stunned as he was, he couldn't open his mouth to speak. 

Koutarou took it as an open chance. 

“I wanted to apologize for earlier with Shou,” he told him, his eyes glued to the bento he prepared for Keiji. “I hope… I hope we're fine. Every time you bring up separation… it scares me, you know?” 

Koutarou forced a smile. Pained. Clearly antagonized. “So, I hope these jokes stay as jokes. I’ll make sure I’ll be a proper dad for him while I’m around. I’ll start today. So… please,” he paused to lean in closer towards the younger male’s face, “don't give up on me before I can even try. You’ll give me another shot, won't you, Keiji?”

Keiji had fallen silent. Whatever he’d done to deserve such a husband, he didn't know. Before he had realized it, Koutarou’s face was tainted with worry when a tear had streamed out of his control.  _ Fuck it.  _

He’d been taking divorce as such a light matter. He knew that now. He’d been making Koutarou feel horrible. He knew that now. He was a horrible husband. Some  _ motherly  _ figure. The name almost seemed to be doing more than mocking him. 

Then again, Koutarou had prepared him his food in case he had skipped, and he was standing before him asking for the forgiveness Keiji should be begging for on his knees. 

“Thanks, Koutarou,” Keiji beamed softly, wiping his cheek dry with a sleeve.  _ I love you so much. So, so much.  _ “You're amazing. As always.”

Koutarou learned how to take a hint. Instead of consoling him when he evidently hadn't needed it, he grinned back at him, pecking him once on the forehead and ruffled his hair, before adding on, “Make sure you eat both breakfast and lunch. You sure took a while in the bathroom. Even had time to prepare you rice balls.”

He sniffled against a smile. “...seriously?”

“Guess which one’s which without tasting anything,” Koutarou winked, “and text me your answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Received our report cards today. Didn't go so well. Failed a few subjects, and I'm not feeling great. Probably affected the content, so this chapter isn't my best. 
> 
> I can't think of anything witty at the moment, so I'll make up for the sloppiness in the next chapter. 
> 
> Ja, mata ne.


	5. Fucking, Cuss, and Kill!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A father shouldn't be cussing in front of his kid. In Shouyou's panic, however, he learns something worth yelling over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE WI-FI IS BACK FOR TWO DAYS SO HERE'S A SHORT CHAPTER I'VE WORKED ON FROM THE LAST WEEK YEEEEEEEEEE
> 
> I FEEL LIKE A CAVEMAN WAKING UP IN THE MODERN WORLD WASSUP PEEPS WHAT DID I MISS *does that Madison dance from Hamilton* OH WHAT DID I MISS

**_[7:04 AM, Owl Wife]:_ ** _ The first one’s tuna mayo. Second’s the slice of salmon you bought the other day.  _

**_[7:04 AM, Owl Wife]:_ ** _ I can’t tell what's in the third one. Is this chocolate? I can't smell.  _

**_[7:05 AM, Owl Wife]:_ ** _ If the third one’s supposed to be a a prank, you're dead to me, Koutarou. This better not have chocolate.  _

**_[7:06 AM, Owl Wife]:_ ** _ I can't believe you cooked chicken while I was in the bathroom.  _

**_[7:06 AM, Owl Wife]:_ ** _ Tell Shou if he behaves, Mama’s bringing honeyed chicken home later. Kid goes crazy over those. Thanks for the idea, Kou.  _

**_[7:06 AM, Owl Wife]:_ ** _ Cars are moving along. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.  _

 

Koutarou grinned.  _ My God, I love him so much.  _ He was cooking the whole time Keiji left him the messages, forcing him to leave his phone to vibrate on the table, unnoticed by neither him nor Shouyou, who was too busy singing a warbled version of a song he heard on TV. 

Now that he's put yesterday’s leftovers on heat, he found himself some time to settle into a chair next to Shou’s. He'd been ignoring the banging and clacking his son had been making for rhythm, although he's already taken a mental note to  _ never  _ leave Shou with aluminum chopsticks. 

The moment he’d double-clicked the glass surface, the lockscreen greeted him with the words, _ ‘6 unread messages from Owl Wife’  _ next to a picture of his sleeping other half wearing a shirt two sizes too large for him - Koutarou’s - during his other visit in the fall. (Keep it a secret from, Keiji. He still hasn't found out about it.) A grin tugged as his lips as he scrolled through the messages with a thumb, reading as slow as he could while imagining how Keiji would have read them. 

And his voice was loud and bounced off the empty halls of his brain. 

_ ‘I’ll talk to you later. Love you.’  _

That reminded Koutarou of the moment he had strode into the kitchen, his footsteps so heavy, it turned heads. Keiji arched over to land a kiss on Shou’s cheek, completely oblivious to a staring Koutarou. 

His clothes. 

Those were all clothes Koutarou bought for him. Separately. During different visits. And Keiji was wearing them all in one set so fucking  _ perfectly.  _ Koutarou would never have thought of that combination; then again, Keiji always did have a fashion sense he himself couldn't see. The older male had always pointed it out back in high school, and college, and post-marriage. To think he was still doing it, Koutarou wasn't surprised. 

Although every single time he presented his clothes in a way a model never would so casually, Koutarou would always  _ \- always -  _ find his mouth slightly ajar. 

_ Was he actually going to a seminar dressed in that?  _ Koutarou doubted, but mostly it had been due to the fact he had felt a pang of jealousy make his chest sting. Keiji mentioned going to Ueno with someone from the accounting department, and Koutarou might have pulled a long face in secret, wishing he’d be that guy.  _ Lucky, he gets to spend the day with a prettied up Keiji.  _

What if Keiji wasn't at the seminar? What if he was at some motel somewhere, trying to get away from him and Shou just to be with the man he’d been getting his satisfaction from when Kou was away?  _ No,  _ Koutarou hesitated, shaking his head, trying to dismiss the thought.  _ Keiji isn't like that at all! He loves me! He just said so!  _

And with that train of motivation, Koutarou began hyping in a reply. He was sure Keiji would never learn how to cheat, and he felt ridiculous for being suspicious for about three seconds. What did taint his mind were the words ‘while he was away.’ Koutarou was slowly beginning to realize how much he’s been left out for the past three months since he was home, and the five weeks before that, and a month prior, and almost half a year before. He really was gone. How Shouyou still thought of him was a miracle. 

_ I can make up for it now,  _ Koutarou thought, pumping a fist with a happy little hiss.  _ I’ll become Best Dad in no sweat!  _

 

**_[7:26 AM, Owl Hub]:_ ** _ i love you too!! (^•v•^)3 have fun at the seminar!!! _

 

“Alright, I’m feeling motivated!” Koutarou beamed at the ceiling, throwing the phone enclosed in a fist up in the air. “No fucking up today, I tell you!”

“Papa,” Shouyou called from behind him, immediately attracting 200% of his father's attention. Koutarou whipped his whole body to his direction before resting his palms on his knees. Shouyou was looking up at him with wide, nearly sparkling, eyes when he queried, “What's fucking?”

Koutarou blinked once. Then twice. He  _ did not  _ just hear him say that. “Shou-chan,” he began, fazed, “did you just cuss?”

Shouyou blinked back at him, fiddling with his fingers in front of his chest. The two stared at each other for over five seconds before the child finally spoke up. “What's a cuss?”

“Crap,” was Koutarou’s response coming from impulse, before immediately clamping a hand over his mouth. He taught his kid two new words, and one of them was definitely not something he should be saying, especially not in daycare. 

‘ _ Who's going to be best dad in no sweat?’  _ he could almost hear Keiji say. 

_ I screwed up _ . Horrific. 

Koutarou let his arms fall to his sides when he straightened before taking a deep breath, trying to gather his bearings. He took another mental note to watch his own mouth from then on. “You mean your mama has never said those words?” he asked, leaving Shou to shake his head frantically. 

“Mama doesn't yell unless he’s calling me,” Shouyou stated, huffing, almost looking proud of his other father. He fell back into his neutral face in thought, before beaming up at his father with the  _ biggest  _ smile. “Can I tell Mama that? He would be happy with me learning new words! Right, Papa?”

Something clicked inside Koutarou’s system, sending his heart to beat faster within his chest as he waved his hands frantically in front of Shou. “No, no, no! Don't tell Mama I told you those. He would kill me.”

“Kill,” Shouyou mimicked, putting a finger to his lower lip. A split second later, he clapped in delight and asked, “‘Kill’ is a good word, too!” 

Koutarou retracted, backing one step.  _ Which words am I supposed to censor?  _ Nervous, Koutarou drew a shaky breath and asked quietly, “Did you remember all of the things I told you?”

“Fucking, cuss, kill,” the ginger-head answered without a second thought. From the looks of it, he surprised even himself for being able to recall all three, hence the bright smile he had on. 

“Shouyou, please don't say those for Mama,” Koutarou requested. Overwhelmed with fear of Keiji’s wrath, he seemed more like begging for mercy. “Mama would be very sad.”

“Sh… she would?” 

“Yes,” Koutarou nodded, trying his best not to smile.  _ It’s working!  _ “Very.”

His face fell when he watched over Shouyou. 

The toddler’s eyes looked as though they had seen the whole world go into the apocalypse, or his whole life falling apart. And Shouyou was  _ five.  _ He was staring intensely at his palms, following every mark on his pale skin. Koutarou knew that look - it was his when he missed tosses in high school. Had Keiji been showing this child reruns of their games, he would never know, but a larger concern had erupted when Shouyou began screaming. 

“O-oi, what's wrong?” Koutarou asked, panic coursing through his veins once more. He felt as though he had stepped into private property and tumbled over tripwire, sending sirens wailing all the way. And Shouyou was a living breathing siren. Koutarou could put him on their car and anyone would mistake him for a broken police light. Wait. 

He gripped his child by the arm, but before he was able to pick him up, Shouyou’s shrieking stopped. Panting, the ginger-head looked up at his father and exclaimed, “I… I can't forget!”

“You can't?”

“I can't!”

“Why not?”

Shouyou clutched either side of his head, before slamming his face on the table with a loud thud. Koutarou flinched. “My life is over,” he wailed, reminding Kou of his own lines, and his own actions.  _ Did he get all of these from me?  _ “I’ll never become a volleyball star like you, Papa…!”

That ticked something inside Koutarou. The father picked him up the moment the words escaped his mouth, propping an upset Shouyou against his chest. “You don't know that yet,” Koutarou chided. “You're five, baby.”

“But I said bad words,” Shou reasoned, squeezing his father’s cheeks with his stubby fingers. His amber eyes were wild, and Koutarou could easily see through them, only to find how truly upsetting it was for a child like him. “Mama would never let me live on!”

Koutarou hadn't gotten over the fact that Shouyou was telling him those things. ‘Mama would never let me live on’ wasn't something he expected to hear from someone his age, especially with Shouyou not even hearing of the word ‘kill’ before. “Honestly, where do you get these lines from, Sh - ?”

The ginger-head ignored him and let out the loudest cry that reeled Koutarou a million miles aback. It wasn't about the volume; it was about what he said. “AKAASHI!”


	6. Do You Have a Charger?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouyou's curse word is "Akaashi" and it's all Keiji's fault. Sugawara finds out about the dead squirrels, and Iwa's in the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing the summary xD
> 
> Wi-Fi re-disappears tomorrow and I'll be off with no updates again, probably, but if I can't stand it any longer, I'm resorting to a data plan because I want Shouyou to FINALLY disappear like a magic trick. Don't @ me.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about the venue. There were the classic white table cloths that draped down towards the floor, the classy chandeliers that lined the middle bone of the ceiling, and the projector that showcased empty blinding blue light onto the whiteboard on a dais.

Keiji’s eyes traveled over the function hall, finding nothing but the slurred voices of people chattering around him. Even for professionals gathering in a single space, Keiji would never name it ‘hushed.’ Everyone had their own cliques, their own tables, although some wore identification cards they would proudly present to people they met.

The classic seminar ambience. _This is for work,_ he opted, _and for shit pay._ Keiji had tried his best not to show disgust by scrunching his nose. This atmosphere was something he could never grow used to, although he's attended several of those in the past. He couldn't understand why, but standing by the entrance alone with his ID dangling from his breast pocket, he felt like he wanted to be eaten whole by the floor, just so he could stop the dread building up in his stomach.

Keiji ever so wanted to go home and oversee two of his favorite people together. His husband was staying until the end of the week after all, and he had to make the most out of those moments.

He just had to be called in for this damned seminar on millenials, acting as if he actually gave a damn.

“Bokuto-san! Over here!” a voice hollered across the hall, loud enough for him to hear through the concoction of conversations. Somewhere in the opposite side of the room to his left, Iwaizumi had been waving over at him with his whole arm extended.

 _Thank God, they're here._ Keiji sagged his shoulders, only realizing he had them tensed the moment he walked into the large room. He meandered past tables, muttering apologies over near bump-ins, walking over twenty to twenty-five feet before reaching the front, settling into an empty seat between his two acquaintances.

To his left sat the man who waved him over - Iwaizumi Hajime, the professor who taught for the third years from Keiji’s department, sitting two desks away from the ravenette at work. By numerous coincidences, the two had often gone for coffee between classes in the morning together. He’d known him because of the mere fact that he was one of the first teachers to welcome him out of obligation. Keiji thought of it as a big thing, and hence, he found himself a friend.

To his right was Sugawara Koushi, Shouyou’s part-time daycare adviser, wearing a pink sweater and pale blue jeans. By complete chance, Sugawara had come along invited as well, and with him already acquainted with Iwaizumi from high school, things were coming along smoothly for the three of them.

Keiji was only late. That was all there was to it. Humiliation. Dread. He wanted to pass out then and there. He could skip the whole process of going through mixed feelings that were in no ways a good combination for a seminar as boring. He didn't want to spend the day rotting in that monobloc chair; he could have been with Shou and Koutarou in the garden having snacks. That topped everything in his bucket list, assuming he has established one in the first place.

“Took you a while,” Iwaizumi noted, turning to fix his own identification card on his chest. “Traffic?”

“A bit heavy,” Keiji answered, wrinkling his nose, placing his bag on the table. His phone vibrated in his pocket, buzzing against his leg so strong, it almost tickled the sensitive skin through the denim. Producing the device, he continued, “I was lucky enough to get through, though.”

“How’s the hubby?” Sugawara asked, a chin rested on a palm. His eyes teased Keiji, making the ravenette wish he hadn't bothered to peer over at him. “Isn't he home?”

“Stalker,” Iwaizumi grunted.

“I am not! I saw on _TV,_  Hajime,” he huffed, but even with Keiji gluing his eyes to his phone as he unlocked the screen, he could tell Sugawara had been smiling. Still. In almost a horrifying manner. That meant Keiji wasn't free from this talk.

He wished he was.

It wasn't as though Keiji hated talking about Bokuto. He loved him so much, that was the truth, but his only problem was the kind of face he would accidentally make whenever he would talk about the owl-like man. Everyone around him knew there was a limit to the number of expressions Keiji could make for them, unlike Koutarou, whose already shown a thousand different faces in the first week they’ve spent together in high school.

Keiji vowed to himself he’d keep his neutral face, as he’s always been complimented of how cold it was, and in a way, it made him superior without overstepping his bounds. That was _him._ That was just how he looked. If he ever got mad, or irked, he could knit his brows together, or let his aura do the talking. He was never really fond of experimenting with his lips and let emotions tug at them subconsciously. Even smiling was rare when it came to people he couldn't call friends.

Talking about someone he loved, however, would only cause him to look… fond. His features would soften, and he'd look like he'd let down his guard.

Koutarou would always tell him it was cute for him to do so. Keiji thought otherwise. He would rather die than to be seen so vulnerable by anyone other than his husband.

Sugawara cleared his throat and shook Keiji by the shoulder. “So, Keiji, how’s he? Doing well? Or working out? Is he with Shou-chan?”

“I swear to _God_ , Koushi,” Iwaizumi began. Keiji almost heard a nerve twitch. “That's all you're ever after. Men. With rippling abs. How's that cop boyfriend of yours? Doing well, then? Or working out?”

 _Touchè_ , Keiji itched to butt in, but he had been too preoccupied with the third mistake he's done over prying the lockscreen open. Damn Suga and his shaking.

“It’s a _different_ matter! Shouyou is _my_ student, and Bokuto-san enrolled him.” Sugawara wriggled an accusing finger at Iwaizumi and continued, “I have a taste in men, too, you know.”

Iwaizumi laughed. “Like muscles? And frequent visits to the gym?”

“If that was the case, I would have pined after you and not Sawamura-fucking-Daichi.” _That was a pretty good comeback_ , Keiji thought. A silence sat between the three of them, mostly because Iwaizumi had been stunned with such logic, or probably because he wouldn't believe Suga had indirectly complimented his athletic build, until the silver-haired male squeaked out giggling, “But well, Daichi has a nice body, too.”

Keiji had sighed in chorus with Iwaizumi. “Called it.”

“Keiji, you're basically avoiding my questions now,” Sugawara chided him. Keiji hadn't really paid him much attention the moment he flipped open the messenger app sittingat the bottom left of his menu. “This is about Bokuto, not me! So how - ”

As if on cue, Keiji’s phone rang to life. To his left, he felt Iwaizumi jolt in place, and to his right, Sugawara let out a yelp to which he had reacted to by clamping his mouth with a hand a moment too late. Keiji frowned at the screen, reading a bold-lettered ‘KOUTAROU’ as he debated whether he would pick it up or let it go for voicemail instead. _Problems at home already?_ He hasn't even been gone for an hour!

Talk about the devil and the devil shall come.

He muttered a reply, thinking about how both perfect and bad the timing was. In the end, he answered and pressed the screen to his ear.

“Keiji,” he said, coming out a murmur instead.

“You never told me about showing Shou _our_ games!” cried Koutarou from the other side of the line, nearly making the ravenette retract. Thank God he wasn't a fan of the loudspeaker. “I love you so much, I’m going to cry!”

“How'd you find out?” he asked quietly, flickering his gaze between his two friends who had suddenly grown a sudden interest in eavesdropping. He shot them a glare before cupping a hand above his mouth, inclined towards his phone.

Koutarou calmed down in a split second. Keiji found that impressive for the most part. “Well, the story went like this. Shouyou, don't - ! Welp, okay, there you go.”

“What is going on out there?”

“He tripped over a rock, I think. He’s fine.”

The ginger-head’s distant voice confirmed, “I’m fine!”

“See? There you go.”

Keiji managed not to smile. “About the games, did Shouyou tell you?”

“Oh, right-o! So, at first I was all, ‘no fucking up today’ as encouragement for myself, and I said it aloud - ”

Keiji’s vessels were ignited. “Koutarou - ”

“I know, I know, my bad! It started some odd dialogue, eventually I taught our son two other words - ”

“What words?” he demanded. Upon realizing the heightened volume, his eyes drifted towards Sugawara, whose eyes began burning holes into his soul, his mouth tugging into what seemed more of a devilish smile to Keiji. The ravenette eyed the table instead and waited for Koutarou.

“Safe!” Koutarou assured. “Safe words, I tell you. ‘Cuss’ and ‘kill.’ No biggie.”

“ _Yes_ biggie,” Keiji begged to disagree. “If I hear him say those to one of his classmates, you're dead meat.” He looked at Suga, making sure he heard. “And I have Sugawara-sensei to keep an eye on things for surveillance.”

“Don't act so happy,” chided Iwaizumi from Keiji’s left.

“Shh!” Suga hushed him. “I’m trying to listen!”

“No, _I_ am,” Keiji hissed at the two of them just in time for Koutarou to continue.

“At some point Shou-chan began, I dunno, panicking, and - Jesus Christ, Shouyou, no! That’s a squirrel!” The background fell into static for about three seconds before Koutarou’s voice returned. “Sorry, Shou just - ”

“Poked the sleeping squirrel in the yard,” Keiji concluded, “I know.”

“Yeah - wait, how’d you - ?”

“He does that a lot. I’m at fault for that one,” he admitted. “I once read a story to him about a crow poking a squirrel with a stick as a bedtime story.”

“So _that's_ why Shou draws headless squirrels during art time. The crow kills them! With a stick, no less!” Sugawara slammed a palm onto the table upon his epiphany, only to earn himself a hiss from Iwaizumi.

“Why would anyone want to write that?” asked the owl-like man over the phone, completely bewildered.

“Enough questions, please carry on with your report.”

Koutarou took a moment before breathing into the phone and continued, “Well, where was I? Uh, Shouyou was panicking and whatnot, and at some point he began stating _my_ lines from my mood swings in high school.” He paused to chuckle. “Man, were those good times. Oh! And here comes the exciting part!”

Keiji fixed himself up by slumping against the backrest of his monobloc. He hummed a short response as he waited for Koutarou’s excitement to peak.

He drummed his fingers on the table in front of them with the hand that wasn't holding on to his phone. Iwaizumi slid out of his seat, gestured he had to go to elsewhere real quick, and with a nod from Keiji, he left the two alone in a sea of professionals they didn't know.

Sugawara didn't look like he had lost interest in the _slightest._  Keiji had to begin fearing for his life once the call ended.

Keiji drifted his gaze back to the table, eyeing his fingers as he controlled his rhythm to stabilize with a beat he just came up with. His mind wandered, and by the time he realized it, he was recalling the days he and Shou sat in front of the TV after putting in one of Fukurodani's games from the National Spring High Tournaments saved in DVD, the nights where the toddler would crawl up to him when Keiji was working on his lesson plan, asking to transfer videos from his laptop to his tablet.

The videos he asked for were the ones Keiji had secretly taken from long ago, along with the ones Yamiji-sensei had filmed for them in memory of the batch he had brought to Nationals for the first time. Most of them _definitely_ had Koutarou sulking, with the rest of the team walking over to help him pick himself up.

Keiji wished he had supervised the ginger-head's watching - God knew what words he would have picked up, after all! He hadn't wondered about that until that day when he was gathering his laundry and heard Shouyou from the living room with an ear-piercing battle cry: “AKAASHI!”

Keiji’s heart leapt out of his throat, dropping the basket he had tucked between his chest and arms. Immediately did he pace to his son, not knowing what to think. Whether Koutarou’s soul had possessed his boy or not was the only question he could ask himself.

The ravenette arrived only to find Shouyou bawling over a fallen pile that used to be a card castle. They weren't much for height, given the number of cards - Keiji guessed Shou had made it as far as four layers - but with the ginger-head sobbing with slurs of Keiji’s old surname, the ravenette’s heart couldn't even bring to do anything about what he had just heard.

 _Definitely got it from those videos,_  Keiji mused, checking his phone to see if Koutarou had already disconnected.

Just as anticipated, Koutarou began yelling over the phone at the top of his lungs, “His curse word is Akaashi! In _my_ way of reading it! Can you actually believe that this kid right here - yeah, that orange ball of sunshine making invisible snow angels in the grass in fucking spring - yes, _him_ \- quotes me?”

_Yes, I can believe it, Koutarou._

“He actually, fucking quotes me!”

“Well, I suppose you were gonna find out somehow,” Keiji admitted. “He enjoyed our old clips the most, knowing both Mama and Papa were on court, so I was forced to dig those up from the attic.”

Koutarou was _sobbing_ on the other end of the line. “I still can't believe his curse word is what and how I used to call you! This kid is a fucking blessing, I’m telling you, Keiji!”

“Sorry, I should have corrected him the moment I first heard him say my old surname. I didn't know how to explain, really. Ended up letting him be.” Keiji paused to nip at his lower lip. “Well, he _did_ seem happy. I had nothing against that, unless,” he paused to quirk a brow, “you do.”

“None at all!” Koutarou beamed. “I can't call plagiarism on this one! He could be a carbon copy of me once he learns how to dye his hair! Keiji, I’m so fucking proud of him!”

“It's about time you stop cussing in front of your own son, Koutarou-san.”

“My bad, my bad!”

The ravenette could almost see the perfect set of teeth his husband put on display for him and him alone. He could almost see how his features lit up the room brighter than any bulb could in his lonesome. He could almost see how he wrinkled the corners of his eyes, and the pink that dusted his cheeks in delight. Keiji could feel Koutarou; he’s always had. This time around, he was closer, not necessarily touchable given the time being, but he was close. And Keiji could go see him whenever he felt like it.

If only he could bust himself out of this damned place, he would have been fine. Better even.

“Hey, Keiji,” Koutarou called him, his voice softer but warmer, in a way that his chest had gotten the signals and erupted a new sense of comfort through his veins.

Keiji sagged his shoulders, lowering the hand that cupped over his mouth, letting it fall to his lap, massaging his leg through the thick denim. “Yes, Kou?”

“I love you.”

“You idiot.”

Koutarou whined. “Oi, oi, where’s my - ?”

“I’ll text you,” Keiji promised.  _This is a bad time. Read the atmosphere._

“Hmph!” was all Koutarou had told him, releasing a long disgruntled sound reverberating from his throat, until he continued with, “Fine.” The line fell into shuffling, and a muffled, “Shou, do you want to talk to Mama?”

Keiji had known that would only lengthen the conversation, with their son just as talkative as his other father, but had done nothing. Instead, his ears were more than ready to hear his voice and nothing else mattered to him by then.

“Mama!” cried Shou. There it was. He couldn't see his son, but just like he had done with Koutarou, he could feel and see the smile brighter than day as an image in his head. “Papa and I are going out to Fuku - ”

Keiji blinked. “Yes, baby? You can do it.”

“ - Fuka… mmph.”

What could have been a string of words were soon replaced with gibberish noises, depicting an upset Shou. Keiji was about to open his mouth to ask until Koutarou spoke in the background, “Furukawa.”

“Furukawa!” Shouyou chirped happily. “Papa and I are going shopping at the mall we go to, Mama!”

Keiji thought there was nothing wrong with that, of course. It was a mall they went to, after all. Something ticked inside him nonetheless, and in the end, he requested Shou to hand the phone back to his father and began talking. “ _Why_ are you going to Furukawa?”

“I dunno,” Koutarou answered without a second thought.

Keiji felt like punching a hole right through a cemented wall. _You don't know?_

“I felt like bringing him out! That was all!”

“How are you getting there, then? I brought the car with me.”

“I asked Kuroo if he could take us. Said he’d be fine with it.”

Keiji lifted both his brows. Kuroo Tetsurou. He hasn't heard that name in a while. For all he knew, the man was working at a game company as a sales head, living with his common law husband. “Kuroo-san… he said he was fine with it?”

The ravenette could almost see his other half nod. “Said it was cool, given that he gets to play with Shou, too.”

Keiji let out a sigh, waving him off with a gesture of his hand that he couldn't see. “Alright, alright. Please just do take care.”

Koutarou's voice moved away from the phone. “Hey, hey, hey! Did ‘ya hear that, Shou-chan? Mama said we could go!”

“Koutarou, please do take care - ”

“I will! Don't you worry your little head! Papa’s got this in the bag!” Koutarou declared. By then, Keiji wasn't entirely sure whom between he and his son were being conversed with. “We're gonna have great fun!”

“Mm,” Keiji hummed in response, but only then did he realize he had already wrinkled the gap between his brows. _Why shouldn't I be troubled?_ Keiji defended. Shouyou was energetic, and still Koutarou hadn't seen the boy’s summit when it all came down to interest piquing his stamina. So far he had only witnessed his excessive jumping in the backyard and incoherent poking of a squirrel. Heaving another sigh, Keiji continued, “Just remember to write your phone number on - ”

_Beeeeep._

“ - him.” Keiji withdrew, whipping his head to look at the screen, only to find that Koutarou really _had_ disconnected that time. He clicked his tongue, and muttered under his breath as his fingers flew around the screen to locate the messenger app.

“I can tell he’s doing well,” chuckled Suga, his elbow propped on the table and his head on his palm. “Rather energetic of a father, I see. You weren't on loudspeaker, were you, Keiji-kun?”

“I wasn't,” grumbled Keiji, before Sugawara’s question sank in. _How?_ His head whipped towards the daycare teacher, the frown he once had for his husband now for the silver-head next to him, hoping his eyes hadn't depicted as much horror as much as he was inside. “You might just have good hearing.”

“Or Bokuto-kun frequently yelling over the phone,” he suggested with a small laugh.

Turning his attention back to his phone, Keiji muttered with a grimace, agreeing, “That man can beat a megaphone any day, trust me. It's loud whenever he's home. With Shou, it's a times two.”

Sugawara’s voice faltered into a fond sigh. “It sounds rather fun at home, though, wouldn't you think so?” Keiji hadn't replied, and instead had only raised a brow, a gesture for Suga to clarify. “Well, of course, I dunno how it is at your place - you ignore my questions whenever I ask about it, you weasel - ,” he dug a finger into Keiji’s cheek, earning himself an incoherent grunt before he withdrew, “ - but I think having him around makes things sort of light in the chest. A cloud-nine kind of weightlessness. If anything, having him around makes you feel better.”

For a moment, Keiji had thought of Sawamura, the cop Sugawara had begun dating about half a year back, and whom he had only met once at Shou’s daycare by pure chance. He was on the investigation sector, and with that information alone, Keiji had already known he was just as busy as Koutarou, always gone just as he was. The only difference was Sawamura could come home at least once per week.

For a moment, Keiji thought Sugawara had been referring to Sawamura. ‘I _f anything, having him around makes you feel better._ ’ There was a certain sadness pertaining to it, a sadness that was remarkably capable of doing a number on Keiji’s heart enough to make it wrench. When the ravenette felt a pinch in his chest, he relaxed his features only slightly.

Empathy? He wasn't exactly sure.

“I do suppose you're right; he makes me feel good in a way that I’d have to find myself thinking of him living under the same roof for as long as God knows when. Although, I can't ask him to stay,” said Keiji, hitting Koutarou’s name in bold letters at the top of the contact list after shaking his head. “He has dreams. I can't get in the way of those, naturally. I met him in high school, and that man was _born_ ambitious.”

Suga shrugged. “Oh, well, you're right with that one, too.”

Talking about asking the other to stay, it was reasonable for Keiji to say he's never done so. If they were talking about _thinking_ of making him stay…

_I’ve always wanted him here with me._

 

 **_『To:_ ** _Koutarou_ **_』_ **

_‘Write your number on ’_

 

**_[LOW BATTERY EMERGENCY SHUT DOWN]_ **

 

 _Are you fucking serious?_ He wasn't even warned!

Keiji growled, staring blankly at the empty screen, eyeing the grumpy man in his reflection. He closed his eyes and breathed. No, he was going to keep his cool. Koutarou and Shouyou were making it home tonight just fine.

Shouyou would be at his best behavior. He was with Koutarou. He was with the other father he needed, the father that completed the hole in his heart assuming there was one.

_Calm down, Keiji._

_Calm._

_Down._

“Do you have a charger?”


	7. Uncle Kuroo's Sedan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima drives, Shouyou and Kenma claim shotgun, and Koutarou and Kuroo form the backseat duo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I skipped three days. So much for a daily update.

_Tick, tick, tick._

Koutarou glanced down at his gold watch before turning his gaze back to the street. It was the definition of a beautiful day, when the crowns of trees that decorated the sidewalks and yards were embellished as they basked in the noon sun. To think that he had actually missed out on the whole morning… and now he was headed to the mall with his mini-him, which meant _more_ time indoors to miss out on admiring the weather.

Or at least, he should have been. Where was Kuroo, anyway?

“He should be here any minute now,” Koutarou muttered under his breath, taking another glance down at the time then whipping his head to Shouyou, whose small right hand had been held by his father. “How’re you doing, buddy?”

The ginger-head beamed up at him, “I’m okay, Papa!”

Enthusiastic. Koutarou liked that. What did he do to deserve a boy that acted so much like him?

Shouyou wore a shirt of yellow, pale orange, and blue stripes that alternated into his denim overalls. Koutarou had managed not to smile. However, he found himself patting his shoulder once.

Getting the toddler into those clothes was _his_ hard work after all.

Who knew? Shouyou was energetic for almost about everything. Koutarou had spent a good ten minutes flipping their whole house a hundred and eighty degrees over, searching for the child that was hiding from him. Had Koutarou not yelled out about not going to the mall, heck, he never would have figured out that the boy had hidden himself in the laundry basket.

Luckily, Shou hadn't suffocated and was smiling when he popped out, but Koutarou felt like hyperventilating from the surprise.

And bathing wasn't an easy feat either! He must have spent half an hour in there, with Shouyou initiating a splash battle - a losing one Koutarou couldn't resist from engaging in - every five seconds. Evidently, Koutarou was at a disadvantage, knowing he was _outside_ the tub, and much to his dismay, he’d lost to his own child.

Now the two were waiting in front of their locked door, under the overhang to keep themselves shielded from the sun, for Kuroo to show up. Koutarou could look down at Shou and think what a good job he'd done so far. He was a pretty decent father, after all!

“Shou-chan, you're not leaving that, uh, doll of yours behind?” Koutarou asked, gesturing with a nod towards the stuffed crow Shouyou tucked between his chest and arm. He'd always found it weird - it was probably the size of a volleyball, with small wings sewn on either side and legs made out of yarn, capped with what looked like hair, its color a lighter shade of black compared to the toy’s feathers, with a three-way fringe. What Koutarou guessed to be grumpy-looking eyes, the lids inclined towards the beak, were the size of almonds and sat a few inches below the gaps between his forked bangs. Koutarou decided to describe it as ‘funny-looking.’ “You might lose it in the mall, you know.”

“It's fine, Papa!” Shouyou assured. He looked down at his best friend, as if initiating a quick and quiet conversation with it, before looking back up at Koutarou and beaming, “Kageyama-kun’s promised he wouldn't go anywhere!”

_Kageyama-kun?_

“Alright, then. Kageyama made a promise. Promises shouldn't be broken.” Koutarou’s features softened, only to have them tense all over again over a particular sound that perked his ears up.

 _Was that a car screech?_ Koutarou wondered, his eyes traveled outward towards the once empty streets when a bright red sedan had pulled into the driveway, the air brimming with a deafening shriek from the brakes, a dying engine, and the muffled sound of music that the man had presumed to come from the radio.

The tinted windows pulled down, revealing a face far too familiar, and Shouyou jolted from beside him. “Uncle Kuroo!” he chirped, bouncing, tugging at his father’s arm. The ginger’s eyes flickered back and forth between them, and Koutarou wasn't sure how he was supposed to share with this level of excitement. “Papa, it's Uncle Kuroo!”

Koutarou hadn't remembered much from the interaction between his kid and his best friend. One thing was for sure, however, Kuroo was a loving uncle who would hoist Shouyou up into the air effortlessly with a fake ‘hup’ just to have the toddler falling into a fit of giggles. He had been to Shouyou’s birthday parties ever since he had become part of their family, and always was around to support the three of them.

No matter how little INTEL he had gathered on their connections, Koutarou could only hope their bond had strengthened. That was probably why Kuroo had wanted to spend time with them, just to fool around like old times.

Then again, Kuroo made a fine professional. If Koutarou hadn't been scouted for the national team, Kuroo would have topped him in every aspect. Koutarou hated losing; that was one thing why he had to be proud of winning a medal in the Olympics.

 _Kuroo wants to spend time with Shou_ , Koutarou reminded himself as he allowed himself to be lead down the path towards the car by a flouncing ginger-head of five years. He quirked a mental brow upon realizing, _Why… do I have a bad feeling about this?_

He must have had such a thought deriving from Kuroo’s expression - ashen, staring blankly at the wheel, frozen in place as a Nirvana song played behind him. _Is something the matter?_

Koutarou opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a new voice and the opening of the backseat’s car door. “Geez,” began Tsukishima, his brows furrowed, sliding one leg out before the other, “get your act together. We have a child on board!”

Tsukishima slammed the car door shut, revealing denim jeans and an orange flannel. Koutarou blinked twice, only to notice the changes in his hair. Tsukishima had already bid goodbye to close cropped hair. The one standing before him had allowed his fringe to fall over the tips of his ears and eyes.

_Eyes._

Koutarou hitched his breath. Tsukishima was wearing his contacts. He’d forgotten about him getting them in a year back, but that was the first time he's ever seen him wear them.

A groan escaped the blonde’s lips when he propped up his glasses. “Guess it can't be helped,” he muttered.

His eyes drifted towards a staring Shouyou, whose mouth had probably been left agape, and Koutarou had watched as his features softened at the sight of the boy. Tsukishima fell to his knees, an attempt to match the toddler’s height and deem himself more approachable. Playing along to his little game, the ginger-head waddled over for patting. “Shouyou-chan, it’s been a while. Have you been good?”

“Very,” Shouyou claimed, hugging his Kageyama-kun closer to his chest as he danced in place. “I have Papa to take care of me today, so I feel _very_ good!”

The blonde offered him a smile before turning to the volleyball star, getting up to dust himself off. He walked on over, and Koutarou stepped back with a fixed jaw. He didn't like the atmosphere he brought along, especially when a small smug grin pulled at his lips upon realizing he _still_ loomed over the older male. “Well, well, some people just never grow any taller, hmm?”

“Damn you and whatever your parents fed you,” murmured Koutarou, feeling a nerve tick.

Tsukishima laughed, clutching at his stomach as if feeling pain at the lightest of chuckles. _Damn this guy…!_ “You should be ashamed, Bokuto-san,” he jeered with a waving gesture of a hand that hadn't covered his mouth. “You winning the Olympics? Some commoner like me’s still taller than you’ll ever be.”

“It's nice to see you, too, Tsukki,” Koutarou responded through gritted teeth, only to earn himself more laughs from the blonde. “You don't grow any mature, do you?”

“You're one to talk.” Tsukishima fell into another chuckle, but one Koutarou could tell was natural. “I’m teasing. Congratulations on your nth medal. What's new?”

He could feel all the anger dissipate into nothingness in his system upon those words. With the widest smile he could offer, Koutarou landed a playful punch on the other’s arm, leaving Tsukishima to wince - one that the older man had completely missed. “What a sweetheart!”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue as he rubbed the affected area with a vigorous hand.

The two fell into relative silence of mere examining each other, but it was short-lived as they were interrupted with a click and a quick loud creak. With the blonde stepping aside to search for the source, he revealed Shouyou already being able to open the car door Tsukishima had only closed, and clambering inside with a muffled, “Kenma!”

Koutarou smiled at that, although he hadn't yet seen the other child, given that the window was a mean shade of black against the incinerating heat of the sun. The last time the three of them came over for a visit was about eight months back when Koutarou first met Kenma - the dark-haired toddler a year older than Shou that curled up on the sofa, his two stubby fingers latched on either side of a white Apple iPad. The boy had been so silent the whole time, Koutarou nearly sat on him. He was glad he didn't. That would have caused a shit ton of problems.

Not to mention a lifetime of teasing from the others. He'd never be let to live it down.

“Oh, dear, this is going to be a very wild ride, isn't it?” Tsukishima muttered to, Koutarou guessed, himself. The blonde heaved a sigh before gesturing towards the sedan. “Let’s go, then. I’m driving this time.”

Koutarou had walked on over, his eyes grazing over the red paint that coated the roof, the sun glinting a blinding white into his eyes. For a hand-me-down contemporary sedan, it still looked more than flashy. Koutarou knew Kuroo had gotten it painted because, after all, he was there with him from the day the bedhead bought it. He was part of the decision board, and with much pride, he could say he and Kuroo hadn't even bothered to argue, because of both them knew that car was _the one._

He hooked his fingers with the car latch, and propped the backseat door open, only to find Shouyou sliding back out in one quick motion, followed by Kenma who held a phone with both hands. The older boy’s eyes flickered towards Koutarou, whose shadow towered over both children, before looking back down at his phone with his brows knitted to say a quick and shy, “Hello, Uncle.”

Kenma was the complete opposite of Shouyou, Koutarou was certain. When Shou was a living breathing speaker that ran on zero electricity, Kenma was a mere flashdrive - silent, and even for a first grader, knew _so_ much. As far as Koutarou knew, this boy spent two hours of his free time reading dictionaries, all so his parents could let him play games until bedtime.

“Nice to see you again, Kenma-chan,” Koutarou beamed, ruffling the boy’s long dark hair. “I see you’ve replaced your iPad.”

Kenma straightened his blue sweater, pulling at the collar as to let at least a little stream of air pour in. “Mom says an iPad would be too large to bring to the dentist's.”

“Dentist's?” cried Shou, his eyes wide in awe. “Kenma, you’re getting your teeth pulled out today?” Pretending he hadn't been startled by that volume, the older child only nodded in response.  “That's awesome!”

Kenma fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “W-well, it probably is…”

Shouyou lunged at him, dropping Kageyama to use both hands in trying to spread Kenma’s mouth open. “Which one? Which one?”

Koutarou stood frozen. _What… exactly am I supposed to do in this situation?_ “Sh-Shouyou,” he stuttered, arching to reach for his son’s head, “stop that - ”

At once did Kenma grab hold of both Shou’s wrists and told him, “No. Don't. It hurts.”

Shouyou dropped his arms and exclaimed an apology in his panic. Kenma sighed before lifting his own upper lip, revealing the second tooth from the front, wobbling it with a finger.

The ginger-head stared in wonder. Three seconds later he jumped back. “Blood!”

Kenma lowered his arms and stared at the index finger he had used to move his shaky tooth. He grimaced at it and decalred quietly, “It really is blood.”

“Kenma, d-d-don't die!”

The other boy’s eyes widened, his face ashen. “E-eh? Does this mean I’m going to die?”

Koutarou fell to one knee and held them by the shoulder. “Calm down, both of you,” he began, moving his gaze between them. “Who said anything about dying? It's a bloody tooth! In a literal sense, at that.”

“Literal?” Shouyou blinked.

“The thing is,” Koutarou continued, clearing his voice and turning to look at Kenma, “it’ll be bleeding even more once it’s gone.”

Kenma’s shoulders sagged, the tension coursing out of his body so fast as if it was never there in the first place. “I might be wrong, but the taste of blood is… good.”

“Vampire,” claimed Shou, turning to pick Kageyama from the ground and dusting him off.

“Shouyou, we’re standing out in the sun,” Kenma noted. He went on, gesturing to himself. “Shouldn't I be burning by now?”

Shouyou pursed his lips and thought hard. “Well, you might be wearing lotion!”

“Lotion?”

“Sunscreen,” corrected Koutarou.

“Ah.”

“Yeah, that!” agreed Shou. “That's why you're not burning right now!”

Koutarou forced a smile. He was never going to understand those two, that was for sure. _It’s nice to see Shouyou with a friend, though._

“What are you three doing?” queried Kuroo, who had finally emerged from the opposite side of the car with Tsukishima scooting him over all so he could drive. The bedhead shut the door, loosening his tie and clicked his tongue at the sky. “Damn, is this weather hot or what?”

Tsukishima popped his head out of the window. “Shouyou, Kenma, shotgun.”

“Eh?” hesitated Kenma.

“Shotgun!” cried Shou, grabbing Kenma’s hand and curving the hood of the car. Kuroo had stepped aside to let the two inside.

Koutarou grinned at Kuroo who only then had shut the car door as soon as the two toddlers had settled in their shared seat. “Guess we're the backseat duo for today, man.”

Kuroo had looked better than the first time Koutarou had seen him that day when he was right behind the wheel. The colors had flushed back into his face, and although there weren't any embellishments with his physical appearance like Tsukishima's, Kuroo didn't look a day older than twenty, and would still - as Koutarou could tell from the smug look on his face - write ‘hot stuff’ on his own chest at any second if only he had a marker.

The ravenette approached the car door opposite to the one Koutarou had his hands on, and with a nod in his direction, replied, “Damn _right._ ”


	8. Long Day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long day for the moms, now told from the perspectives of Kei and Keiji.

“Are you  _ sure  _ it’s folded this way?”

“I’m a salesman, Bokuto. Of course I’m sure it’s folded this way! Watch me!”

Had Tsukishima known he’d be babysitting not two but  _ four  _ children, he would have been able to prepare himself. Personally, it all began with his boyfriend’s horrid driving. 

_ Absolutely  _ horrid. 

Tetsurou had topped every single drunk driver in the world’s worst vehicle operations. One moment, he rested his hands on the wheel, the next he was pummeling, not forward, but in fact in  _ zigzags  _ in the most terrifying way possible. He dirtied the asphalt road with long lines of rubber wheel scrapes as he turned every corner, earning himself ear-piercing screeches every single time. 

The blonde had managed to hold on to Kenma (lucky that he had chosen to sit in the back), but never in his whole life had he felt so shaken - excluding the time in Kenma’s younger years when he clambered down from his high chair  _ alone _ , which, once again, had been Tetsurou’s fault. How the six-year-old hadn’t even looked dazed in the slightest was beyond him, even with his father’s reckless driving. 

Tsukishima could never be able to name the cause, given that Tetsurou’s never sucked at driving  _ that  _ much, but if he were to guess, he’d definitely pinpoint the man’s evident excitement to see his old best friend who happened to return from Brazil. More than half the year was, admittedly, very long, and to have Bokuto return from training felt more like having Bokuto returning from the war to Tetsurou. 

To keep Shouyou from getting a seizure, Tsukishima’s best option was to take the wheel, and for precautionary measures, keep both children in his vicinity. 

The ride began with slamming doors and a slow forward in addition to the hum of the revving engine, almost drowned out by Bokuto and Tetsurou’s  _ conversational  _ voices, mostly composed of Bokuto teasing the latter due to his driving and Tetsurou defending his dignity. Less than one minute into the ride, Kenma went out of his way and asked his mother for paper, knowing he had kept a whole stack of those in the glove compartment. 

“What's it for, sweetheart?” Tsukishima asked. His hand had already been reaching towards the knob to pull the glovie open. “Are you and Shou going to draw?”

The six-year-old shook his head. “Shouyou wants to teach me how to make a cat,” Kenma answered, putting his phone down to get extra hands for receiving the so desired paper. 

“It'll be easy, Kenma,” assured Shou, offering the other a toothy grin. His eyes lit up when Kenma handed him a new sheet of paper, and immediately did the redhead get to work, the older boy watching him so eagerly he had temporarily given up his phone to Tsukishima. 

“Hey, hey,” Bokuto hollered from the backseat before popping his head right above the gear box, “us, too!”

“Papa, I’m teaching Kenma right now,” Shouyou huffed. “I’ll teach you and Uncle Kuroo later!”

“Thank you, baby,” said his father, his spirit unwavered as though his son scolding him had completely soared above his head. Tsukishima had to keep himself from smacking Bokuto right up the head to move back. 

Bokuto spun to look at the blonde, earning himself a click of his tongue and a nonchalant, “What do you want, Bokuto-san?” 

“Oh?” the older male blinked. “Where'd our sweet little Tsukki go? Just now he'd only told me how much he missed me!”

“Go sit back down or I’m shoving your head out of the window.”

Kenma snickered quietly from the other side of Bokuto. 

“Does that mean we can get paper, too?” he asked on. 

Tsukishima heaved a defeated sigh and reached into the glovie as soon as he had taken the next corner. “Here,” he told him, shoving about twenty sheets into his chest, “now go sit back down.”

“Thanks, Tsukki!” And with that, he withdrew to fall beside Tetsurou, who in turn had shot Tsukishima a smile so uneasy it almost appeared apologetic. 

Tsukishima would take side-glances at the two toddlers, being the ones to share a seatbelt, and find himself smiling at how well the two had gotten along. Kenma wasn't outgoing (Tsukishima could care less whilst Tetsurou felt like whirring his head on a three sixty just trying to convince him to befriend people at his classes) but to see he had at least one person to call a friend, let alone, get along with, Tsukishima was fine with that. Very. 

He himself started off with a single friend, too, after all. 

Then Tsukishima’s eyes would dart to the mirror just above and grimace. 

“Holy crap,” Bokuto breathed, “it really does look like a butterfly.”

“Butterflies,” began Tetsurou, one hand on his chest, the other holding his prized origami work, “are my specialty.”

_ I taught you how to do that _ , thought Tsukishima, but he decided not to rain on his parade. He shook his head, relieved he hadn't said it aloud or things would have gotten troublesome. That didn’t save him from remembering, however. He had recounted one of the nights last week, when Tetsurou had insisted Tsukishima teach him to fold butterflies out of square paper. If he was correct, and he doubted that he wasn’t, the two of them had fallen asleep around two in the morning then and there on the carpet, with Kenma waking them up just in time for Tetsurou to prepare himself for work. 

With one final sigh, the blonde pressed on the breaks, slowing to a momentary stop with a red light hovering right above the blue car in front of them. 

It was going to be a long day. 

 

Keiji was feeling  _ great _ . 

The seminar was going far more tedious than he had expected, assuming one could actually call it a seminar. Some event he had come to - the speaker was missing in action! Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. Keiji couldn’t remember being so pissed at someone he didn’t know before, but by then he was sure he could lunge at the idiot they assigned to talk. 

Keiji was pretty damn sure  _ not  _ showing up was not part of their salary. He could have been spending his day with Shouyou and Koutarou; walking around the mall could have been better than  _ this _ , sitting in a sea of chatty strangers. 

Perhaps one reason why he actually  _ had  _ friends was because they were similar. In a way. After all, one look at Iwaizumi to his left and Keiji had immediately known he wanted to hit a wall with a solid fist, too hot-headed to even pay bleeding knuckles attention as though a simple blood loss wasn’t worth his time. 

Sugawara had flown in just in time to drag the two of them outside and into one of the public bathrooms. He’d looked like he wanted to pour water on both of them; the moment Keiji noticed that, he had begun keeping his distance. He hoped Iwaizumi did as well, but with him being dragged through looped arms, he didn’t seem to take the hint. 

Keiji wasn’t completely wrong in the end. 

“Gee,” Sugawara muttered, wetting his whole hand to sprinkle water into the spiky-haired man’s face, earning himself a grunt and a shove against his chest. “That  _ hurt _ , Hajime. Calm down!”

“I  _ am  _ calm,” Iwaizumi growled, wiping his face with a hand. Three seconds after the conversation succumbed into a silence, he let out a sigh. “I’m just exhausted. And annoyed.” His hands balled into fists. “What kind of  _ bitch  _ \- ”

Sugawara sprinkled him with a second batch. “Hajime!”

Iwaizumi held out both of his forearms to shield his face, a frail attempt to keep dry. “Stop!” he chided with a click of his tongue. “I didn’t bring a spare shirt! You’re getting me all wet!”

“Keiji-kun!”

Keiji’s shoulders tensed at the mere mention of his name. Perhaps staying by the door wasn’t going to erase his presence, after all. When he lifted his gaze from the floor, Sugawara was gesturing towards a distressed and grimacing Iwaizumi with a jerk of his head, mouthing, “Say something, oi! Help  _ me _ !” 

The ravenette raised both brows. “Well, remind me to never give you a sprayer for Christmas.”

“Yes, thank you,” Iwaizumi scowled down at Suga, before smacking him right up the head. “Very helpful.”

“Nine-one-one,” Sugawara wailed, ducking as he backed away, “I call  _ abuse _ !”

Keiji’s mind drifted towards the phone in his pocket, imagining the black screen depicting the dead battery he had forgotten to charge the night prior. Of course, Keiji felt frustrated not being to tell Koutarou the important rules about taking their child outside; there were lots of things he might not have known and, knowing Shouyou… no, he shouldn’t be underestimating his own husband. Bokuto Koutarou was no weak man; he could top anyone in terms in energy, speed, and stamina. 

_ Shou could top him, too _ , whispered the air. 

_ You can fuck off _ , retorted Keiji. 

But that basically summed up why exactly he’d been so irritated all throughout the morning. His phone  _ died _ in the middle of a call (personally he would have blamed Koutarou, but Keiji knew better than to point fingers at his husband who already  _ had  _ felt guilty over Shouyou walking in on them that morning) and there was the absent speaker whom they had wasted half the day for, in the hopes that this mystery man would decide to show up (but didn’t)… yes, that was it. 

Now he was standing by the door frame, leaning heavily against the concrete, watching as his two companions reenacted Hamlet right in front of him, as though they were trying to portray everyone’s roles with the manpower of two. Now that Keiji’s gotten his mind clear by keeping quiet - and possibly frowning at everyone for the past two hours - a part of him had realized something.  

_ Come to think of it _ … 

Curiosity ignited his lungs, and by the moment he realized it, he had begun speaking. “Iwaizumi-san.” Both heads spun to his direction as though they had practiced it as a routine. Keiji threw his head to the side and queried, “Why are you so pissed? Did  _ you  _ have plans for today as well?”

Keiji hadn’t missed Sugawara’s eyes light up before the silver-haired male turned towards the other with an agreeing nod. “Keiji-kun has a good point.”

Iwaizumi’s face froze. 

Neither Sugawara nor Keiji had ever seen him look so flustered. 

Plastered across the silver-haired male’s face was the most  _ devilish  _ grin Keiji’s seen him wear, and with that the ravenette wished he hadn’t opened his mouth to ask. 

It was going to be a very long day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plans of ruining Iwaizumi's life. I'm also a slut for Sugawara's split behavior.
> 
> I'm also working on a new BokuAka long fic entitled, "Dear Koutarou" and I'm probably going to make sure it gets angsty. So, if you're into that, well, ya'll are welcome to check it out anytime. 
> 
> See you guys next update.

**Author's Note:**

> I've only just begun checking out Shinka no Natsu and the look Akaashi gave Hinata was so warm, it sort of inspired me to write something domestic with the parent owls and adopted child Shouyou. 
> 
> I haven't finished the second chapter, but it is, however, under editing. I'll be gone for two weeks, return for one, then be gone for the next. Updates will be, sadly, a little slow this time given my current situation at home. 
> 
> It's summer and I'll be busying myself with helping out at the store downstairs. I'll try whittling out some time for writing. 
> 
> For now, I hope you enjoyed. Leave your thoughts in the comments, and I'll see you next update. 
> 
> \- Kei


End file.
